Domino
by Boogum
Summary: She wanted to escape. She wanted to lash back. She wanted to do anything but be his little pet. But she was at his mercy – her existence positioned on the edge of life and death, like a single domino waiting to fall. All it would take was one little push.
1. Part One

**A/N: A very long time ago I promised the lovely Jack Tamara that I would write her a one-shot for her birthday. Alas, I failed miserably at getting it completed on time. That being said, I am a woman of my word, so here is your (very, very belated) birthday fic, my dear. I do apologise for the wait. Hopefully, the extra chapter will make up for my tardiness. ^_~**

**I should also state that this fic is loosely based on a challenge that JT made at **_**The DG Forum**_**, in which Ginny was asked to be a maid at Malfoy manor. Credit must also be given to the amazing Dark Sanctuary, whose powerful music helped set the mood for this fic. In particular, I would recommend listening to the songs Les Entrailles de Ce Purgatoire, Summoning of the Muse, Silence Macabre, The Garden of Jane Delawney, Les Larmes du Méprisé, and Je M'En Irai.**

**Finally, I would like to thank Aerileigh for all her help with going over this chapter and being the general amazing person she is. You're the best, Leigh. ^_^**

**Part One**

There was blood everywhere. It choked her nostrils, her mouth, her eyes, smothering all her senses in a wave of crimson. She could hear the men coming closer and stumbled drunkenly over to where her brother was lying. He would have looked like he was sleeping were it not for the sticky patches of red coating his robes.

"Come on, Ron," she whispered, taking his hand. "We have to move."

She tried to pull him forward, but his skin was slick with blood and she lost her grip. He fell back to the ground in a broken heap, yet his eyes continued to stare fixedly at her. Ginny shoved her fist in her mouth so that she wouldn't scream.

"I heard something from over there," a man's voice called from the other side of the house.

Ginny started at the sound and looked frantically around for a place to hide. Her eyes fell on her father's old work shed. She took one last look at her brother's lifeless face, then turned and ran. An animal had made a burrow underneath the shed, and she quickly dropped to all floors and crawled through the mud, pushing herself through the small gap. There she lay, trembling with fear, still with a fist in her mouth to stop herself from crying too loudly.

The men came around the corner, dressed in their black robes and silver masks. Her heart started beating faster as she watched them approach. She wished she had a wand, but she'd had no chance to grab it from her room when the Death Eaters had attacked. She could only hope no one would find her.

One of the men paused before Ron's body and gave him a sharp kick. "Dead," he announced in a voice that barely concealed his contempt. "Reckon that's the last of them?"

The tallest of the group glanced about the clearing and Ginny held her breath as his gaze fell on the shed. He walked forward, and she scrambled back further into the darkness, brushing against cobwebs and spiders, and feeling things with many legs crawl along her skin. She had never liked bugs, but it didn't take much effort for her to remain still. She was so terrified she could not have moved even if she wanted to.

The man stopped directly before her hiding place so that his boots were just inches from her face. She bit harder on her fist, and her heart pounded so furiously against her chest that she was sure he must be able to hear it.

"Tell me, Verick," the man said in a smooth voice, "how many little weasels did you count eating their dinner before we attacked?"

"Nine, sir."

"I thought so," he murmured, and Ginny shivered at the amusement lacing his voice.

"Thought what, sir?" Verick questioned.

"Nine little weasels sat down to dinner, yet there are only eight bodies accounted for." The man suddenly knelt down and Ginny found herself meeting a pair of cold grey eyes through the slits of his mask. "Hello, little weasel," he murmured, shining the light of his wand on her terrified face.

She let out a sharp breath and tried to crawl away from him, but he was too fast and grasped her by the hair with lightning speed, dragging her out from the shed. She struggled and screamed, desperately trying to break from his hold, but his grip tightened on her like a vice so that her body was crushed against his.

"Shh," the man cooed as Ginny sobbed against him, still half-heartedly trying to break free. "There now, there's no need to cry."

He stroked her hair with his free hand, and Ginny felt suddenly very ill. She did not like his sudden display of tenderness.

"Now then, let me have a look at you," he said gently.

He raised her chin so that she had no choice but to look into his piercing eyes. There was no softness in his gaze, not even a hint of amorousness. He simply stared at her with detached appraisal, as if determining whether she was worth it for him to kill or not.

"She's not bad looking," one of the men leered. "Think we could have a bit of fun with her before we kill her?"

Ginny recoiled and glared at the leering man, daring him to try it. He laughed, unimpressed by her silent threat.

"She's got spirit, too," he grinned. "That's good. I like the ones who put up a fight."

"None of you will be touching her," her captor said firmly, releasing Ginny's chin. "I'm going to take her back to the manor with me."

"But, sir—" the man named Verick exclaimed, taking a step forward.

"Do not presume to lecture me, Verick. The Dark Lord will not care if one insignificant girl is spared. Besides," he added, giving Ginny another appraising look, "I think she could be useful. We need a new servant at the manor, and house-elves have become so difficult to come by these days. This girl will do nicely."

Some of the men grumbled at this, not liking the fact that a blood traitor like her was going to be spared, but they were clearly too in awe of the tall Death Eater to question his authority. Ginny hugged her arms around her trembling body, uncertain if this was a good thing or not. She was too numb with fear and the distress of seeing her family murdered to fully comprehend the significance of what was happening. The only thing her mind could grasp was that, for whatever reason, this Death Eater wanted her alive.

The tall man removed his mask and Ginny's blood went cold as she found herself staring up into the handsome face of Lucius Malfoy. He smiled down at her, though there was no warmth in the expression.

"Well, girl, are you willing to serve me as your master?"

Ginny felt a wave of revulsion sweep through her at the thought of serving this smooth-tongued monster. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her brother's bloodstained body lying abandoned for whatever animal might find it. This seemed to give her some resolve, and she swallowed back her fear and bitterness and simply nodded her head.

"Good," Lucius said, neither pleased nor disappointed. It was obvious he had been expecting no less from her.

Ginny wondered if she had made a mistake, but it was too late to turn back now. Lucius dismissed his men and then tightened his grip on her shoulder.

And then they were gone.

**X**

There was a bell ringing in the distance. Ginny took one last glance at the mirror and smoothed down her black dress. She looked modest and neat, as she always did. Her dress came right up to her throat and extended down below her knees, revealing nothing of her figure except her slimness. Black stockings covered her legs, and she wore serviceable black shoes on her feet. It was the kind of attire designed to make the wearer appear as plain as possible, for Narcissa Malfoy said that servants weren't supposed to draw attention to themselves. Ginny would have been perfectly happy to comply with this rule as well, except that her hair, which was a vibrant shade of red, naturally demanded attention even when worn in a tightly plaited bun. The very starkness of her clothes only served to emphasise the rich colour of her hair.

Ginny sighed as the bell began ringing more insistently. "I'm coming," she muttered, turning away from the mirror.

She exited her small bedroom and headed towards the parlour, entering the room just as Narcissa had taught her – which meant making as little noise as possible. A good servant, so Narcissa said, should not appear to exist in the house at all. Unfortunately, Bellatrix Lestrange was very fond of making Ginny's life miserable, and it was Bellatrix who noticed her first.

"Well, well," Bellatrix remarked with a dry cackle, "if it isn't Lucius's little pet."

Ginny flushed at the derogatory nickname, but kept her gaze lowered. The pain she would receive upon retaliating to the Death Eater's taunts simply was not worth it – especially when the one doing the taunting was Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Aww," Bellatrix cooed in an awful baby voice, "it seems the little pet has lost her tongue today. What's the matter, girl? Finally realised what a worthless slut you are?"

Narcissa gave a pained sigh – she considered it a social solecism to talk to servants unless necessary and could never understand why her sister delighted in doing so – and levelled her cold gaze on Ginny.

"Why are you just standing there?" Narcissa asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I—" Ginny swallowed, her blush deepening to a rich red. "The bell was ringing and—"

"Enough," Narcissa interposed wearily. "Just clear the glasses away."

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy," Ginny murmured.

Still keeping her face lowered, Ginny moved over to the table where the Malfoy's guests had discarded their wine glasses. Of course, most of the guests were Death Eaters, or corrupt officials willing to receive a bribe or two as payment for turning a blind eye to some of the Malfoys' more nefarious activities. Ginny had seen many parties like this during her six months at the manor. It made her sick to think of the way they gorged themselves, knowing that every toast they made was celebrating another innocent life down the drain.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled unpleasantly and she chanced a look up, meeting Bellatrix's hooded eyes. She quickly averted her face again and tried to ignore the dark gaze watching her as she worked.

Bellatrix took a sip of her wine, still watching Ginny with an unpleasant smile twisting her lips. "I don't know how you can stand being served by this trash, Narcissa," she remarked after a moment of silence. "Her filthy little hands contaminate everything with her treacherous blood."

"It was my husband who wanted her," Narcissa responded indifferently. "Besides, I don't care what she is as long as she gets the job done."

"Mm, yes. Lucius was quite adamant about keeping her, wasn't he?"

"Just what are you suggesting, Bellatrix?" Narcissa asked in a soft yet dangerous voice.

Bellatrix gave a dry laugh. "Oh, there's no need to look daggers at me, sister. I'm merely pointing out that from my perspective it does seem a little strange that he would take to such a young and inexperienced girl." Her eyes gleamed with malicious amusement. "Surely you must have wondered whether he's bedded her yet."

There was the sound of something splintering. Ginny let out a small gasp and looked down to see blood pooling out from where pieces of glass had pierced her skin. She had not realised she had been holding the cup so tightly – at least not enough to break it.

"Idiot child, can you do nothing right?" Narcissa exclaimed in a voice that could freeze bone marrow.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Malfoy. I didn't mean to break the glass."

"Well, don't just stand there getting blood all over the carpet. Go and clean yourself up."

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy," Ginny murmured, and quickly left the room, cradling her bleeding hand against her chest.

She could almost feel Bellatrix's smile following her.

**X**

Ginny gritted her teeth as she removed the shards of glass from her hand. She did not see the shadowy figure standing in the doorway, so was taken completely unawares when she felt a hand press down on her shoulder not a few seconds later. A strangled scream escaped her throat, and she immediately made to twist away from the person's grasp.

"Hush," a deep voice admonished.

Trembling slightly, Ginny raised her eyes to her companion's face, already knowing that it would be Lucius Malfoy. Her heart was still wildly hammering against her ribs, but even as the erratic pounding slowed, the discomfort she felt in Lucius's presence remained. She hated being alone with him.

"What have you done to your hand, Ginevra?" he asked, taking her bloody hand in his.

Ginny was aware of a sudden urge to wrench herself away from him, but all she managed was to shrink back from his touch.

He laughed softly. "Don't be frightened, my child. I'm not going to hurt you."

She licked her dry lips and reluctantly allowed him to examine her hand. He was very gentle, removing the glass with quiet adeptness, and his fingers brushing almost caressingly over her hand as he searched for more of the jagged splinters. His skin felt warm against hers yet, somehow, this made her feel even more uncomfortable. She licked her lips again and stared at his face: at the strong jaw and well-defined, masculine features. There was nothing delicate about his appearance. He was like ice: cold, hard, yet undeniably handsome. She could almost imagine cutting herself on his beauty. It was too sharp, too painful.

Their eyes met and she suddenly became very conscious of the sound of her own fragmented breathing. Lucius said nothing and healed the cuts on her hand with his wand, making the skin once again smooth and unharmed.

"You should be more careful, Ginevra," he murmured, releasing her hand. "You're of no use to me if you cannot use your hands."

Ginny held her healed hand protectively against her chest. "Thank you," she said in a tight voice.

An ironic smile touched his lips. "You're welcome."

She suddenly became fully aware of the fact that her master was standing in the servant's quarters with her, and a slight crease formed on her brow. Surely he could not have come here simply because she'd hurt her hand.

"Was there something you wanted from me, sir?" she asked, almost dreading the answer.

"Now that you put me in mind of it, yes. My son has returned home from Bulgaria. He will need his room prepared for him. When you're finished with that, I want you to come to my office. There are some things we need to discuss."

Ginny swallowed. "Yes, sir."

He left the room without a further word, leaving her standing alone, still cradling her hand to her chest. She stood in silence for a moment, then followed him out of the room. On the bench, the tiny shards of glass he had removed from her cuts continued to sparkle with a blood-tainted light.

**X**

Ginny finished plumping the last pillow and stepped back from the bed, letting out a small sigh as she turned towards the door. She started in surprise as she saw a young man leaning against the doorframe, watching her through granite-like eyes. He looked no older than eighteen, and she realised by his pale-blond hair that she must be looking at Lucius and Narcissa's son, Draco Malfoy. Of course, now that she knew who he was, she wondered how it was that she had not recognised him immediately. It had only been a year since they'd last seen each other. He'd spent his last year of school at Durmstrang for his own protection, but now, it seemed, he was back to take up the family mantle as a Death Eater.

"Finished?" he queried, raising an eyebrow.

Ginny wondered how he managed to infuse so much arrogance into one word and felt her anger prickle at the sound of it.

"It's your bed," she responded with deceptive placidness. "You tell me."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Clever," he murmured, though even then he made the comment sound derogatory.

He strolled past her and removed his watch from his wrist, placing it on the dresser. Ginny stared at him warily, not knowing if she had been wise to taunt him. He glanced back at her and a slight crease formed on his brow that was somehow contemptuous in its own little way.

"You can leave," he said coolly. "I'll call you if I need anything."

Her cheeks warmed, for it was hard to miss the contempt in his gaze, but she quickly swallowed back her embarrassment and left the room with as much dignity as she could muster. She already knew in that moment that she was not going to enjoy serving Draco Malfoy. Out of all the Malfoys, so far he had managed to make her feel the most worthless. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel utterly pathetic – as if she had no identity at all.

Ginny made her way back to her room, but then she remembered that she had to report to Lucius. Her heart sank at the thought, but she knew better than to disobey him, and so reluctantly made her way to his office and knocked on the door.

"Enter," his voice commanded.

Ginny closed her eyes as she sucked in a breath, then pushed open the door and entered the room. The candles were low, casting an amber glow over the office and its contents, and seemed to focus her attention on the blond sitting at the handsome, mahogany desk. She felt a slight tremor of trepidation travel down her spine, as she always did when she found herself alone with Lucius, and suddenly became very interested in her hands.

"Come here," Lucius said calmly.

Ginny walked slowly towards him. She could see by the nearly empty bottle of wine on his desk that he had been drinking. Somehow, this made her feel all the more uncomfortable.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked, daring a glance at his face.

He was watching her with a faintly amused expression, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. She wished he would not look at her so. There was something decidedly unnerving about the amused glint in those normally emotionless eyes.

"How long have you been serving me now?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, looking utterly relaxed.

"Six months, sir."

"Six months," he repeated. "That's quite some time."

Ginny said nothing.

"You have come a long way since you first started working here, haven't you, Ginevra?" He smiled pleasantly, though the expression in his eyes was far from friendly. "But I worry that you are not fully loyal to me. I worry that, if given the chance, you would betray me to my enemies."

Her hand trembled at her side and she clenched it tight into a fist so that her knuckles burned white.

"Tell me, Ginevra, are you loyal to me?"

"I appreciate what you have done for me, sir," Ginny answered stiffly.

"That's not good enough." He stood away from his desk and walked towards her, taking her chin in his hand just as he had done so many months ago. "I need to know that I can trust you to serve me and only me. There will be many people coming and going at the manor over the next month, and not all of them are friendly towards my family. They would hurt me if they could, and they would use you to do it if you were so inclined to cooperate with them. But you would not do that, would you, my dear?"

Ginny averted her face.

"Would you?" he repeated, turning her face back to his, and the grip he had on her chin became quite painful.

"No, sir," she said quietly. "I would not betray you."

"Good." He relaxed his hold on her chin. Something shifted in his eyes and he considered her with an inscrutable expression on his face. "So young," he murmured, tracing her cheek with his thumb.

Ginny's breathing sharpened and she glanced up at him with a suddenly frightened look. He smiled at her nervousness.

"Don't be afraid," he said for what seemed the thousandth time. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She squirmed uncomfortably as he placed a hand on her waist, while his other tilted her face more towards his. Her throat became suddenly very dry, and she was intensely aware of her heart thudding uncomfortably against her ribs. Then the door opened and it was with a mixture of relief and – oddly – disappointment that Ginny turned to see Draco Malfoy stroll into the room. He checked at the sight of his father clasping the servant-girl by her waist, and his eyebrow lifted a fraction.

"Should I come back later?" Draco asked wryly.

Lucius released Ginny, though not out of embarrassment, as one might have expected; he appeared to have merely lost interest in her now that his son was in the room. She recoiled into herself, looking pathetically vulnerable as she stood there in her stark outfit with the faintest traces of tears glistening in her eyes. Draco stared at her blankly for a moment, then turned his attention back to his father.

"Leave us, Ginevra," Lucius ordered.

Ginny was more than happy to obey and shuffled out of the room as quickly as possible. She heard the two men start talking as soon as she had shut the door, but she did not bother to listen more closely in order to make out what they were actually saying. She did not want to be anywhere near Lucius right now. She just wanted to be alone. However, even once she had retreated to the quiet safety of her room and got ready for bed, nothing could rid her mind of what had almost happened in the office. She could not forget the image of Lucius's handsome face swimming before hers as he leaned in close, his lips a hairsbreadth from her own, nor the feeling of his large hand clasping her waist.

She touched her fingers to her stomach where she could still feel the imprint of his hand burning into her skin. A sigh escaped her lips, and she closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows. It was a long time before she finally fell asleep.

**X**

Ginny tried to avoid Lucius as much as possible over the next few days, which really wasn't that difficult. He made no push to speak to her again, so that she began to wonder if she had any reason to worry in the first place. Perhaps he had simply had too much to drink that night, or maybe he hadn't been going to do anything to her at all. In any case, she had more important things to worry about. Already, some of the Death Eaters who had recently broken out of Azkaban had taken up residence at the manor. There was one, in particular, whom Ginny did not like: a thin, weedy looking man with a rat-like face and mean little eyes. She knew him only as Donovan, but somehow she knew this was the same man who had leered when Lucius had taken her.

Then there was Draco. He was not openly rude to her like his aunt Bellatrix, but Ginny knew by the way he looked at her through those granite-like eyes that he did not like her. If he had been cold to her in his room when they'd first seen each other again, he was even colder now after witnessing her with his father in such a compromising position. No doubt, he thought she was having an affair with Lucius. Ginny wondered why it should bother her so much that he thought this. It wasn't as if Bellatrix did not think the same.

She spotted the young blond leaning against the stair railing, watching some of the Death Eaters discussing something below. She paused in her steps, unable to help staring at him. He was so different from his father. Lucius was built on grand proportions, to the point where one could not help but notice him; Draco, on the other hand, was more slender, though he had inherited some of his father height, even if he was not as tall as the older blond. He kept his hair short, no longer slicking it back as he had done at Hogwarts, but allowing it to fall in a broodingly Byronic way around his eyes. The eyes themselves were much darker – and larger – than his father's, resembling more the colour of dampened stone rather than Lucius's silvery, almost icy irises. His features were also more delicate – no doubt an inheritance from his mother – so that there was a deceptively fragile look about his face. All in all, he was a very pretty boy, but a boy nonetheless. One could never call Draco Malfoy effeminate, whatever the ethereal quality of his looks.

His eyes flicked towards her, and Ginny found herself lifting her chin at the elegantly scornful expression that came to his face. Somehow, he always managed to get under her skin without even saying a word. They stared at each other for a moment, then he glanced back at the Death Eaters, dismissing her as if she were nothing more than a speck of dust. Ginny found that she had the oddest urge to scream at him, if only to snap him out of his cold aloofness and make him finally notice her, but she resisted the impulse. He'd probably just sneer at her anyway.

She made to walk past him, still with her head held high, when his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"I wouldn't go down there if I were you."

"Why not?" she asked.

He smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. "Not all of my father's guests are as accommodating as he is when it comes to blood-traitors."

Her cheeks warmed as she realised what he was insinuating, and she held her chin even higher. "Whatever you might think, I'm not your father's whore. He spared my life because he needed a servant, not because of—of what you're suggesting."

"Is that what you think?" he asked, almost pityingly.

She frowned, but he had already turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her standing alone at the top of the stairs. Down below, she could see the Death Eaters still talking, and then her eyes fell on the weedy Donovan. His gaze met hers and a nasty smile curled his lips. Ginny turned away in disgust and headed back in the direction of the servant's quarters. She decided that maybe Draco had a point in suggesting she not go downstairs today. If Lucius and Narcissa needed her, they could always ring the bell.

"There you are."

Ginny jumped in fright and turned to see Bellatrix watching her with a triumphant gleam in her obsidian eyes.

"Going somewhere, little pet?"

Ginny swallowed. "I was going back to my rooms. No one has called for me, and—"

"_No one has called for me_," Bellatrix mocked in a cruel imitation of Ginny's own voice. She gave another of her dry laughs. "Tell me, do you actually enjoy picking up after my sister and that good-for-nothing husband of hers?"

"I—"

"Surely you haven't forgotten that it was my brother-in-law who led the team of Death Eaters against your family and exterminated them like the dirty rodents they were."

Ginny didn't know when her hands had clenched into fists, but she suddenly found herself glaring at Bellatrix as the blood in her veins grew toxic with hate. "I have not forgotten," she said stiffly.

"Then you must know that when he grows weary of you, he will no longer want you here." Bellatrix's smile widened so that the tired cracks in her face were thrown into sharp relief. "It's only a matter of time before it happens, and then – then, Ginevra, there will be no one to protect you, and I'll show you exactly what I think of little blood-traitor sluts like yourself."

Ginny saw the image of herself leaping on the other woman and scratching at her face until she couldn't smile even if she wanted to; she was sorely tempted to follow through with the image as well, but, instead, she drew in a small breath and forced her temper to sink back into its much-battered cage.

"Excuse me," Ginny said quietly, pushing past the dark-haired witch.

"Don't you walk away from me," Bellatrix snarled, latching her hand around Ginny's wrist and digging her nails into the soft flesh.

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously, and for a moment, it seemed as if she would retaliate. But then a shadow passed over her, and she turned and saw Lucius Malfoy walking towards them. He took one glance at the hand Bellatrix had gripped around Ginny's wrist, then raised politely enquiring eyes to his sister-in-law's face.

"What are you doing, Bellatrix?" he asked.

Bellatrix slowly uncurled her fingers from Ginny's wrist. "I suggest you keep a tighter leash on your pet, Lucius," she sneered. "The little wench is getting quite bold these days."

Lucius's eyes darted to Ginny, who kept her face lowered, then glanced back at Bellatrix. "Do you take me for a fool?" he asked softly.

Bellatrix stiffened. "Excuse me?"

His eyes met hers unflinchingly. "If you lay a hand on my servant again, Bellatrix, you will find yourself needing a new place to stay. I don't care if you are my wife's sister; I will not have you interfering with my business."

"You wouldn't dare!" she spat, glaring at him.

He seemed to feel this was not worth responding to and stared at her coldly, as if asking her why she was even still standing there when he had clearly dismissed her. Bellatrix swallowed back the poisonous words she might have said and threw a malevolent glance at Ginny before she stalked off down the hallway, black cloak billowing behind her.

Lucius walked over to Ginny and took her wrist in his hands, examining the crescent shaped marks marring the pale skin. She hated the fact that her pulse quickened at his touch; it seemed that no matter how much she despised and feared this man, he would always be able to manipulate the unruly blood in her veins with the slightest contact.

He released her wrist, then considered her through his cool grey eyes. "I hope you're aware of what I just did for you."

"Yes, sir," she said in a subdued voice.

"Then I don't want to see anything like this happening again."

"Yes, sir," she repeated, still keeping her face lowered.

He tilted her chin towards him with one graceful motion. She swallowed, meeting his icy grey eyes for a moment before glancing away, a light flush staining her cheeks. He released her chin with a small 'hmph' that may have been amused or scornful, Ginny wasn't sure, then stepped back from her and continued down the hallway.

Ginny let out a small breath and leaned her head back against the wall. "What am I doing?" she asked the empty corridor. "What the _hell_ am I doing?"

**X**

A week had passed. Ginny was aware of the thick tension growing in the manor. It had started with Bellatrix, who was still bitter at being reprimanded by Lucius, and now even Narcissa was beginning to stare at Ginny with hard, accusing eyes, as if she knew exactly what the redhead had been thinking of her husband. For think of Lucius, Ginny did. She couldn't help it; he was the only one in the house who was even remotely kind to her, and when he touched her—

She hugged her arms to her body, blocking the thoughts firmly from her mind. It would not do to dwell on the effect that those fleeting caresses had over her. He was a married man, a murderer, and he was nearly thirty years older than her. Everything about the situation was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Ginny screwed her eyes up tight and rocked slowly back and forth. She was sick in the head. It was obvious now. Why else would she allow herself to be persuaded into serving a man who had helped murder her family, let alone fantasise about having those same murderous hands explore every inch of her body.

A bell started ringing in the distance, snapping her out of her frantic thoughts. She quickly scrambled off the bed and checked the mirror to make sure her appearance was in order. Satisfied that she looked presentable, Ginny exited her room and made her way to the dining room, where she could feel the magic of the bell calling her. The power to sense where the Malfoy's were summoning her from was the only real magic she had now, for she could not do wandless magic like a house-elf. Still, Lucius had made sure she would be a useful servant to him, using many of the same bonding spells that linked a house-elf and its master on her so that she could sense when she was needed. Unlike the elves, however, she could not simply be freed by the simple offering of clothes.

She turned a corner and almost fell back in surprise as she collided with a man in a black robe. One glance at his face made her back away in fear: it was that same rat-like man who had wanted to 'have a bit of fun with her' before killing her all those months ago.

"I've been hoping that I'd run into you," Donovan said in a low voice that made the hairs on the back of Ginny's neck prickle.

"I have to go," she said firmly, trying to move past him.

"What's the rush?" he taunted, putting an arm out to block her path.

Ginny's eyes flashed with very real annoyance. "Please, I'm being called."

"_Please, I'm being called_," he mocked, and gave a harsh laugh. "I don't think they'll miss you for a few minutes longer."

He thrust her up against the wall and Ginny let out a frightened scream, which he quickly muffled with his hand.

"Now, darling, don't be so difficult," he grunted, holding her in place with his knee wedged between her thighs while he fumbled with her dress. "I'll just have to cast a silencing charm on you if try open that pretty little mouth of yours to scream again."

She bit hard on his finger, making him pull his hand away with a pained yelp, and took the opportunity to try and shove him off her. He merely pushed her back more forcefully against the wall, knocking her head in the process so that she saw stars. Satisfied that he had momentarily stunted her ability to fight against him, he kissed her full on the lips and clumsily pawed at her breasts with his free hand – the other was still trying to get up her dress. Ginny made an odd sort of whimper and tried more desperately to push him off her, and then, quite suddenly, he was no longer touching her.

Ginny let out a shaky breath and stared in surprise as Draco Malfoy released the back of Donovan's robe and raised one delicate eyebrow at the older man.

"I think you should leave now, don't you?" he suggested quietly.

Donovan looked like he was going to argue the matter, but Draco, without even needing to threaten the other man with his wand, simply raised his eyebrow higher, as if daring him to try it. Donovan did not dare. Even he was not stupid enough to attack the only son and heir of Voldemort's right-hand man.

Draco's eyes flicked to Ginny, who was still breathing heavily against the wall and looking rather shaken. It was perhaps lucky that her attire was so rigidly modest, for the most Donovan had managed to do was rumple her dress and create a few tears in her stockings where his fingernails had dug into her thighs. She refused to look at the man, though; even thinking about his rat-like face made her want to vomit.

A faint crease formed on Draco's brow. "Come here," he ordered, holding his hand out to her.

Ginny stared at the blond warily, but she gathered that he was not going to do anything to her, and so stepped cautiously away from the wall. She could feel Donovan watching her and quickly shuffled over to where Draco was standing, as if she were afraid that Donovan might reach out at any moment and try to snatch her back up in his arms again. Without even sparing a glance at the other Death Eater, Draco placed a hand on the small of her back and led her down the hallway – clearly he did not think Donovan was worth his breath.

She chanced a look back as they walked and saw Donovan glaring at her. She quickly averted her eyes, feeling her insides curl with fear and disgust. She never wanted to see that face again.

Draco continued to lead her silently down the corridors until they were well away from Donovan, then he stepped back from her and made to walk away without a further word.

"Wait," Ginny exclaimed before she could stop herself. "Are you really just going to walk away without saying anything?"

He glanced back at her, the faintest trace of a smile touching his lips. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked, sounding genuinely amused.

"I-I don't know," she stammered. "But after what just happened. I mean, that man, he—he was going to—"

"He won't try anything again, if that's what you're worried about," Draco said bluntly. "He's too afraid of my father to do that."

"But—"

"But what? I told you he won't try anything again, so what's the point in discussing the matter further?"

"Well, at least let me thank you, then."

"Thank me?" he repeated. "For what?"

"For saving me, of course."

Draco gave a harsh laugh. "Is that what you think I did?"

Ginny bit her lip as she saw that same contemptuous gleam creep into his eyes. He laughed again and then, without even bothering to give her a word of goodbye, stalked off down the corridor. Ginny stared at his retreating figure in a mixture of hurt and anger, but it was hurt that won in the end. All she had done was try to thank him for helping her, and he had simply laughed at her face.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she hugged her arms to herself to stop her body from trembling. She didn't know if she was crying because of what Donovan had done to her, or because Draco Malfoy was the cruellest boy she had ever come across. Either way, it was a long time before she could stop, and then she just sat in the corridor with her head in her arms, feeling very helpless and alone, and wishing that she had never agreed to serve Lucius Malfoy.

"So this is where you have been hiding," a cool voice observed from somewhere above her.

Ginny raised her head from her arms and saw Narcissa Malfoy standing before her, looking very regal and unimpressed.

"Do you know how long you have kept us waiting for our dinner?" Narcissa demanded icily.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Malfoy, I just—"

"You just what?" Narcissa interposed, raising an eyebrow.

Ginny flushed. "Nothing. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"I certainly hope not. What's the point of keeping you as a servant if you can't even do your job properly?"

Ginny apologised again, though inside she was seething. None of them cared about her feelings; she had might as well be a tree for all the kindness she received from the Malfoys.

_But Draco did help you_, a small voice reminded her. _Think what would have happened if he hadn't been there to stop Donovan._

She pushed the thought firmly aside. No matter what Draco Malfoy had done to help her, it could not change the fact that he was a cruel, heartless boy.

He did prove to be right about one thing though: Donovan never did come near her again. He broke his neck while coming down the stairs the next morning and died instantly.

No one believed it to be an accident.


	2. Part Two

**A/N: Apologies for the wait. I took longer than expected to get through my fic for **_**The DG Forum's **_**Fic Exchange, but I'm back to writing again now, and should have the rest of this story finished soon. **

**The song mentioned in this chapter is indeed a real (and very beautiful song), composed by Sergei Rachmaninoff. I know it would be considered a "Muggle" song, but I hereby state the infamous Rachmaninoff is a wizard as well in the world of my fic. ^_~**

**Part Two**

Two days had passed since Donovan had been discovered dead at the bottom of the stairs. Somehow, it had leaked out that he had forced himself on Ginny the day before his death. She knew by the way the other Death Eaters stared at her that they thought it was her fault he had been killed. It was obvious to them that Lucius must have taken action against Donovan because of her; he would always protect his little pet.

Ginny tried her best to ignore their hateful looks, but she couldn't deny that she was afraid. None of them had dared to say anything to her – not even Bellatrix, who had always been the most vicious towards her. However, the resentment was still there. She saw it in their eyes when she served them their meals, felt it shiver up her spine when she slipped into their rooms to gather their dirty washing and make their beds. Their hatred festered in the air like poison, growing more toxic with every bitter glance thrown her way. Ginny wondered if even Lucius could stop them from hurting her forever. She was just a blood-traitor, after all, and now one of their own was dead because of her.

"_It will not be long now,"_ Bellatrix's voice whispered in her mind,_ "and then – then there will be no one to protect you."_

Ginny shivered and glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see the dark-haired witch looming over her. No one was there.

She sighed and went back to scrubbing the ballroom floor. The Malfoys were going to be having a grand banquet at the end of the week to celebrate Voldemort's victory over the Ministry. Ginny remembered crying when she had first heard the news, but her despair had not lasted long. It had been a long time since she had cherished any real hope that there was a life for her outside the walls of the manor. It had been a long time since she had cherished any hope at all.

Ginny felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She glanced back over her shoulder, sensing instinctively that she was no longer alone, and hoped it was not Bellatrix. It was not; instead, she saw Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she wondered just how long he had been standing there.

He made no move to approach her, and for a long time they just stared at each other. Ginny could feel her heart beating violently in her chest, reacting to the tension filling the room. Then he simply turned on his heel and walked away. She let out a small breath and stared at the empty space where he had stood, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed. A part of her would always be frightened of him, but there was another part – a part she tried desperately to deny – which yearned for him to do more than just look.

Ginny tightened her grip on the scrubbing brush in her hand, closing her eyes in shame at the direction of her own thoughts.

"You're sick," she told herself. "He doesn't care about you. He never will care about you. You're just a plaything to him."

She trembled as she thought of her family and what they would think if they could see her now, lusting after the man who had so ruthlessly taken their lives. The scrubbing brush slipped out of her hands and she buried her face into her knees, sobbing quietly to herself as she realised just how far she had fallen.

Somehow, she knew she would never be able to find that innocent girl again.

**X**

The bell was ringing. Ginny didn't bother to check her appearance this time and left her room, heading to the parlour where she knew Narcissa would be expecting her to clear away the glasses and plates after another night of entertaining. And she was right. Narcissa was even sitting on her usual chair, drinking her usual wine, and barely spared a glance at Ginny – which, again, was not surprising. But what did give the redhead pause was the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting at the piano, playing a haunting melody on the black and white keys, and looking very much at home while he did so. She had not known that he could play the piano, let alone so well.

"Draco, darling, do play something a bit more cheerful," Narcissa sighed, taking a sip of her wine. "This is not a funeral parlour."

"What would you like me to play, Mother?" he asked, sounding rather amused.

"Whatever you like – just no more of these morbid creations of yours, please."

He laughed softly – something Ginny had to wonder if she had heard correctly because of how natural and human it sounded – and then he began to play a new melody, one that Ginny could have sworn she had heard before. She closed her eyes, listening to the gentle cadences of the music. Suddenly, she could see in her mind the image of herself at a young age, sitting in the old work shed with her father while he worked on his latest Muggle discovery. The Wizarding Wireless was playing a Russian piano piece in the background, and Ginny remembered how she had thought it the most beautiful composition she had ever heard.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she listened to Draco play, and then the music stopped and she opened her eyes to see the blond staring at her with an odd expression on his face. It wasn't quite pity, but there was a softness about his gaze that she had never seen before: an almost childlike curiosity – as if he were simply trying to understand something he could see in her, his judgement for once untainted by the fact she was his servant.

"Have you finished clearing away those dishes?" Narcissa asked, turning to stare at Ginny with a look that clearly asked why the redhead had not left yet.

Ginny wiped the tears away from her cheeks and gathered the glasses and plates in her arms. "Just taking them out now, Mrs Malfoy."

"Then go," Narcissa ordered coolly.

Ginny took one last glance at Draco, who was still staring at her with that strange, searching expression, and then reluctantly left the room. She heard him start playing again, and felt her heart ache in response as the music called to her, whispering to her of family and love.

"I'll come back," she promised the piano.

**X**

That night, when everyone had gone to bed, Ginny made her way back to the parlour and opened the lid of the piano. She ran her fingers soundlessly along the black and white keys, hearing the melody play once more in her mind. For a moment, she could almost feel her father holding her in his arms, just as he had done when she was feeling distressed back when she was a child. But then a branch scraped at the windowpane, jarring her out of her thoughts, and the illusion was broken. Her father was dead, and he would never hold her again. She was alone, and had been for many months now.

Tears came to her eyes, and she covered her face with her hands, rocking slowly backwards and forwards as she cried silently to herself. She didn't know how long she remained like that, but then she became aware that there was someone else in the room with her. She raised her face from her hands, half-expecting to see Draco, and was almost disappointed to see Lucius Malfoy.

Ginny wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared at him warily. He was standing just beyond the light of her small candle, placing him in the shadows, but there was a sliver of moonlight creeping through the curtain, casting a silvery glow over his face and making his eyes glitter oddly. She remembered that his eyes had gleamed with much the same light when he had pulled her out from under the shed all those months ago. But there had not been a trace of emotion within those grey irises back then. Now, however, his eyes seemed more alive than she had ever seen them – like burning ice.

She stood up from the piano stool and Lucius's eyes darkened further as he took in her appearance properly for the first time. Gone were the rigidity and stifling plainness of her servant attire. Instead, she wore a simple white nightdress, which, while not particularly revealing, certainly showed a lot more freckle-sprinkled skin than what its day-time counterpart had ever achieved. Her hair had also been freed from its tightly plaited bun and fell in vibrant curls to her waist, demanding to be touched.

Somehow, Ginny knew exactly what was going to happen next. She wondered if she should stop it, but in her dazed mind, she couldn't seem to grasp how she could do so or even why she should. So when he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms, she didn't think to pull back. When he kissed her, she thought it only natural to kiss him back, however clumsily. And when he slipped his hand up her nightdress, she didn't understand why his touch made her want to cry. This was what she wanted, after all; what she had been longing for yet dreading since the moment he had almost kissed her that day in his office. He would make it all go away: Donovan's rat-like face, her loneliness, the aching need burning deep within her. It would all be gone.

But when she returned to her room later that night, none of it was gone. She felt just as lonely and distressed as ever – if not more so. She ran a bath for herself and scrubbed at her naked skin for hours, but nothing could wash away the contamination she felt. Murder and blood were imprinted all over skin, tattooed there by Lucius Malfoy's fingertips.

Ginny hugged her knees to her chest, trembling as she sat in the cold bath.

"What have I done?" she whispered in a choked voice. "Oh, God, what have I done?"

**X**

The next day saw Ginny very subdued as she carried out her daily chores. Once again, she tried her best to avoid Lucius, but she need not have wasted her energy. He had no interest in seeking out her company. It might have hurt more had she not been expecting something like this to happen. She had always known that he did not care about her.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror during one of her small breaks, dispassionately assessing herself. Her face was gaunt and far too pale to be healthy, making her eyes appear too large for her face. The eyes themselves were shadowed with dark circles, only emphasising the haunted look in her brown irises. She looked sick, and not at all the kind of girl that would attract a man like Lucius Malfoy. But he had been attracted to her. He had watched her for months, stalking her like a hunter with its prey, just waiting for that moment when he could finally claim her for his own – when he knew she would be too vulnerable and tired to put up a fight.

"And he succeeded," she whispered, turning away from the mirror so that she would not have to face her shame.

It would be so much easier to live with herself had she not enjoyed it, but she couldn't lie to herself. Her skin was crawling with memories of him, as if he were still touching her, still igniting her naked body with fire. It was impossible to forget what had happened, and though she regretted every moment of it, there was a part of her that yearned for more. It was those secret yearnings that frightened her above all.

The bell started ringing in the distance. Ginny closed her eyes, wishing more than ever that she was not bound to the Malfoys. She just wanted to be free from it all, but the bell continued to ring, and the black garb she wore demanded she obey.

She let out a tired breath and exited the room, resigning herself to another day of servitude. When she found herself back in the parlour later that afternoon, she couldn't help but stare at the piano. Ginny bitterly wondered if anything would have happened between her and Lucius had she stayed in her room and not returned to be with her silent music and the ghost-like visions of her family that it summoned.

It was a cruel joke in a way. All she had wanted was to be with her family, but instead she had got Lucius Malfoy.

"You play?"

Ginny turned in alarm and saw Draco leaning against the wall, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. She swallowed back the rush of emotions his unexpected presence awoke in her and shook her head in answer to his question.

Draco walked towards her, and she took an instinctive step back, jittery after the previous night's encounter with the blond's father. His eyes flickered piercingly to hers for a moment, a brief hint of surprise passing over his face, but then the shutters came down and his expression once more became like stone.

"My mother made me take lessons when I was young," Draco said after a moment, his voice cool and detached, as if what he was saying meant nothing to him. "I never cared for it much at first, but music does have its uses, I suppose."

Ginny didn't know why he was offering such personal information to her, even if he was being very cold about it, and glanced at him warily, uncertain of his intentions. He stared impassively back at her, yet there was a peculiarly animate glint in his eyes that belied his air of disinterest.

"You enjoy music, don't you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he considered her.

Her brow creased as she wondered where he was going with this very odd conversation. They had never spoken like this before – he always dismissed her before she could share more than a handful of words with him.

"I—" She swallowed against the sudden dryness of her throat and tried again. "I do like music, I guess."

A very faint smile touched his lips. He turned away from her, facing the window. She stared at his back, noting his perfect posture and slim, elegant frame.

"You are familiar with Rachmaninoff's Vocalise."

It was not a question, so Ginny did not bother to answer. He turned back to face her, and she saw that his smile had gone; instead he stared at her intently, almost invasively. She hugged her arms to herself, barring his eyes from digging into her flesh any further, protecting the secrets of her soul she sensed he was trying to find. The faint smile returned at her defensive stance, but he merely stepped past her and took a seat at the piano. Ginny watched with curiosity as he lifted the lid and poised his long, pianist fingers above the black and white keys. Without a word, he began to play the song that had touched her heart the night before.

The first time she had heard him play the piece it had recalled memories of her father – happy times that she would have given anything to recapture. Now, as she watched his fingers move with expert precision and grace along the keys, creating the music that had spoken to her starved heart so deeply, she was aware of quite a different reaction in her breast. There was no peace, no soothing memories of her father holding her close to ease her troubles; she only saw the image of a soundless piano, open and taunting as a man pressed her against its cold wood, his fingers lifting the thin material covering her nakedness – her last defence against him.

A deep shudder trembled through her body, and she clutched a hand to her chest, which felt as if all her ribs were splintering inside her. It was becoming difficult to breathe, and she was barely aware of the fact that her arms had tightened around herself, her hands clenching into her back, digging deeper into the fabric of her dress until her fingernails pierced her flesh. Draco stared at her from time to time, his expression, always difficult to read, changing from faint curiosity to a barely perceptible frown.

"Stop," Ginny said finally, unable to bear it any longer. "Please, just stop."

Draco removed his hands from the keys. "You did not react like this the other night," he observed, his voice devoid of all emotion, yet the frown lingered in his eyes.

Ginny said nothing. She was trembling slightly, her eyes stinging with overdue tears that refused to fall. It disgusted her that one of her most cherished memories was now tainted by Lucius stripping her down to a defenceless object of lust. She would never be able to hear that song now without thinking of what it had lead to – of what it had done to her.

Draco stood up from the stool and stepped closer to her, making her take another involuntary step back. He did not bother to hide his surprise this time, and for a long moment they just stared at each other.

"He was with you last night, wasn't he?" the blond said finally, his eyes narrowing a fraction.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she responded stiffly, pulling herself together.

No one could ever know what had happened between her and Lucius. Not ever.

"There's no need to be coy," Draco responded, relaxing his stance. "It's obvious my father finally got what he wanted from you."

Ginny flushed and looked away. That was all the answer Draco needed, and he sighed and turned towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked before she could stop herself.

The corners of his mouth curled upwards. "I wasn't under the impression that I was supposed to answer to you."

"I never meant it like that."

"I know."

Ginny dropped her gaze to her hands. "I just thought—I mean—"

"I know," he repeated, smiling – if rather unpleasantly. "You thought I would sympathise with you and make you feel better. Well, I won't."

Her eyes flashed. "I never thought that at all. I know how heartless you are."

His smile turned sceptical, which annoyed Ginny even more. It wasn't enough that he had to be cruel; he also had to be perceptive and see through her lie. She knew there was no point trying to deny the truth of his statement any further, so she decided to change tactics.

Ginny held her chin high. "Why did you even ask me about last night if you don't care?"

"Simple curiosity."

"I don't believe you."

His eyes widened a fraction, as if he were surprised she was actually daring to question his words.

"You have a better explanation?" he asked, his voice faintly mocking.

She faltered under his gaze, losing some of her boldness. "I, um. Well, I—"

Draco laughed softly. "Never mind. I think I can guess what you were thinking. You girls are all the same."

Ginny narrowed her eyes, even as a blush spread across her cheeks. "I hate you," she spat, clenching her hands into fists.

"What a shame you didn't feel the same towards my father. Then we all would have been spared this tedious drama that your relationship with him has caused."

"You think I wanted him to do those things to me?" Ginny exclaimed furiously, unable to keep her feelings to herself any longer.

"Didn't you?" he rejoined, raising an eyebrow.

She bit her lip, flushing as she remembered the secret yearnings she had harboured for Lucius Malfoy, and which even now plagued her mind.

Draco smiled, though the expression was far from pleasant. "Just as I thought."

Ginny watched him leave with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Somehow, she felt as if he was disappointed with her, though she couldn't understand why. It wasn't as if he actually cared about her. He had made that well and truly clear.

"I don't understand him," she said to no one in particular.

**X**

No bell rang that night. Ginny sat in her room, huddled in a ball on her bed, wondering what was going to happen to her now. Lucius no longer haunted her footsteps, but it was a premature hope to think that he would want nothing more from her. She could still feel his fingers burning into her wrist from where he had held her back after dinner before she could escape to her quarters.

"You will come when I call for you," he had murmured in her ear before releasing her wrist and then dismissing her with a nod.

Ginny knew what he was referring to, and it sickened her that he was so certain of himself, so certain she would obey. He had spent months easing her up to that moment – that moment where he knew he could take her for himself, invading her body with his lust, his need to dominate, subduing her completely into becoming his possession. And now that he had done it, now that he had possessed all that she was and tainted those secret places she had guarded within the walls of her naked body, he had no energy to waste on seducing her into wanting to be with him. She had become the servant again, a plaything to be used when desired, and then eventually discarded once its lustre had faded.

Ginny could feel the hot flames of rebellion burning in her blood at the thought. Being with Lucius had fractured something inside her – there was no doubt about it. But though her mind was fragile, and her heart even more splintered because of all that had happened, there was a part of her that could not be destroyed by her master: a part that he inadvertently awakened when he had entered her last wall of defence and thrown aside the few scraps of dignity she had left.

Her spirit, though battered, was not completely crushed. And though she still felt irrational yearnings to be with the older blond, a much stronger desire to break from his chains was growing inside her, consuming her mind. She wanted to escape. She wanted to lash back. She wanted to do anything but be his little pet.

But there was nothing she could do.

Nothing.

It was a demoralising thought. She was at the mercy of this man – her existence precariously positioned on the edge of life and death, like a single domino waiting to fall. All it would take was one little push.

Ginny hugged her knees tighter to herself. She felt the commanding pull of Lucius's magic calling her to him, but she remained where she was: a cocoon of trembling flesh and tears, trying so desperately to block out the world around her, to escape into those deep recesses of her own body where sanctuary might be found.

The candle on her bedside table flickered and then died with a silent breath. Ginny remained in the dark, her eyes wide as the shadows closed around her. The magic was still calling her; calling her so forcefully that her body began to shudder with more than emotional pain, so that it felt like her skin was being caressed with acid-coated fingers.

"_Come_," it said. "_Come now_."

But Ginny did not go. She remained huddled in a ball, shivering in her agony yet indomitable in her resolution.

She would not obey. Not this time.

It was almost an hour before the magic was lifted. Ginny collapsed in exhaustion on the bed, her face damp with tears. She knew she would suffer for her disobedience, but she could not bring herself to care at that moment. No matter how twisted and confused he made her feel, no matter how frightening she knew he could be, she could not surrender herself to him again. She just couldn't.

And she knew in that moment that she would never willingly do so again.

**X**

Lucius did not seek her out that night to discover why she had ignored his summons; he was too proud for that. The next morning, however, he wasted no time in calling her to his office. Ginny knew better than to disobey this time, and dutifully entered the room once she was dressed and had finished setting up the breakfast table.

"You wanted to see me, sir," she said quietly, staring at his boots.

Lucius stepped away from his desk, and she followed his boots with her gaze until they were standing directly before her own small feet. His hand found her chin, and he lifted her face, forcing her to meet his impossibly cold eyes. She had never seen them so unforgiving before.

"You did not come when I called you last night," he said, his smooth voice lightly threaded with ice.

Ginny said nothing. There was nothing she could say in her defence. They both knew it to be true.

He laughed and released her chin. "You have strength, Ginevra. I wasn't expecting that from a little mouse like you, but then you're not really a mouse, are you?" His eyes glittered with an unnerving smile. "Oh, yes, you'd like us to think your silence is subservience, but I'm not a fool. I know how much you hate me and my family."

Ginny's heart quickened in her chest. She did not like the direction of this conversation. He was being too honest. Too open.

Lucius leaned forward so that his face was level with hers, threatening her with the sheer force of his large frame and dominating presence. "Well, here's something for you to remember, Ginevra: I am your master. You are bound to me, and if I call you, I expect you to obey, no matter what your feelings." His expression became more menacing. "Are we understood?"

Ginny trembled slightly and clenched her hands into fists, fingernails tattooing crescent-moons into her palms. His hand found her chin again, gripping her face hard enough to bruise as he stared down into her eyes.

"Are we understood?" he repeated, tightening his grip, though his voice remained as calm as ever.

"I understand, sir," she responded, almost choking on the words.

He suddenly smiled, his menacing expression smoothing back to its normal pleasant facade. "Good."

Ginny closed her eyes, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. She felt his hand shift slightly on her face, cradling it almost tenderly; then, after a moment's pause, he pressed his lips against hers. She resisted immediately, unable to help her natural reaction to fight back, her hands already shoving at his chest. But he was stronger and crushed her to him, trapping her in place. His mouth sought hers more ruthlessly now, punishing her for her resistance. Ginny tried to keep her lips closed to him, but a sharp tug on her hair had her gasping in pain, giving him entrance to her mouth.

He was just pressing her back against his desk when the door opened. Lucius froze, pulling back slightly to see who had entered. Ginny was still trapped underneath him, her breasts rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath, and her heart pounding against her ribs in an erratic beat that made her feel oddly sick. She turned her face, almost hoping it would be Draco standing there, because somehow a part of her knew that he would find a way to take her from the room and his father, though she didn't know why this thought should spring into her frightened mind when he had never gone out of his way to help her avoid his father before.

But it was not Draco standing in the doorway. It was his aunt, and the expression on that ravaged face told Ginny all-too-well that no good could come of this.

"Well, well," Bellatrix said softly, her obsidian eyes alighting with a wicked glow as she took in their compromising position. "So it was true."

Lucius stepped back from Ginny, not a trace of embarrassment on his face. "What do you want, Bellatrix?" he asked coolly.

"Never mind, dear brother," Bellatrix said with a smile that Ginny didn't like. "I can see that I am interrupting."

She left on the words, leaving Ginny with a sickening feeling twisting in the pit of her stomach. Lucius glanced down at her, a faint crease forming at his brow. He had been foolish not to lock the door – something they both recognised, and which Ginny knew was not like him. He had always prided himself on his foresight.

"Leave," he said coldly.

Ginny didn't need telling twice and scuttled out of the room, almost colliding with Bellatrix in the process. The older woman glanced down at her with a smile, but Ginny hurried away before Bellatrix could say anything, wiping furiously at the tears staining her face. Right now, she just wanted to be alone or at least as far away from any Malfoy possible – distant relation or not.

Right now, she just wanted to be free.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

Night had fallen. Ginny released her hair from its tight bun, letting it fall in a thick rope to her waist. She forced her fingers into the folds, tearing the plait apart, her hands trembling slightly in her anger—her consuming hate. Today had not gone well.

She supposed she should have seen it coming. She had refused to go to Lucius when called, and he had punished her for it. Her skin crawled with disgust as she remembered the way he had pressed her up against his desk, crowding her with his body, as if he could steal her will simply by forcing her to feel how small and helpless she was next to him. She had struggled of course, but he had only tightened his hold on her, kissing her with unyielding dominance, his hands already searching to invade, to own.

It made her sick. He had forced himself on her—just like Donovan—and he would have taken her against that desk had Bellatrix not entered the room. Not that Ginny had found any comfort in the older witch's arrival. Out of all the Death Eaters, Bellatrix despised her the most. Ginny knew that Bellatrix would use the information she had gleaned to her advantage, and perhaps had already done so. It was a frightening thought.

Ginny sighed and confronted her reflection in the mirror, staring at the pale face framed by a halo of red curls. She needed to escape. The feeling was growing inside her, burning through her blood and itching under her skin. She needed to escape; it was a mantra echoing in her mind, but her wild thoughts always came back to one question: how? How could she ever escape? She had been at the manor for more than six months and had never been given the opportunity to leave. Why would now be any different? She was wandless, bound to the Malfoys through dark magic that could not be easily broken, and she was afraid.

But she needed to escape. There was nothing for her here—nothing but ugliness and fear and death. True, Lucius had not called her into his office again, perhaps sensing the danger of being with her too openly, but she could feel his eyes following her. He was always following her, waiting for the chance to snatch her into his arms again, to subdue her once more into becoming his little pet. She felt like his dirty obsession, for she had no delusions that he actually cared about her. It was a matter of pride for him. He wanted to own her, body and soul—that was all there was to it. If she let him, he would crush her completely until there was nothing left of Ginny Weasley, until she had no identity at all.

"I can't let that happen," Ginny whispered fiercely to her reflection.

She couldn't let him touch her. Not now. Not ever. Her body was a rock that would give him no entry – not if she could help it, anyway. It was just so difficult to stay strong when everything was against her, so difficult to ignore the frightening feeling of his eyes stalking her like her own shadow, always present, always watching.

She needed to escape.

The bell started ringing. Ginny felt the magical pull tugging at her ribs—her heart—urging her to obey. She frowned, wondering why she was being called now when she had only just been dismissed. Her breath caught in her throat as she realised it was Lucius summoning her— a call that had become steadily more painful as his patience waned. For a moment she considered staying where she was, but then she remembered the agony he had put her through the night before, as well as the humiliation that had followed that very morning.

Without a word, Ginny turned on her heel and left the room, putting her hair up in a quick bun as she headed towards Lucius's bedroom. There was no one prowling the corridors, so she was able to get to the master bedrooms without trouble. Her eyes darted nervously to Narcissa's sleeping quarters, but the door was closed, and the absence of light coming from the room suggested the blonde had already gone to sleep. Ginny let out a small sigh of relief. She had always thought it a bit strange that Narcissa and Lucius preferred separate rooms, but she was glad for that distance tonight. She didn't think she could handle being with the two of them together.

Ginny stopped outside Lucius's room and sucked in a small breath, hesitating only a moment before she knocked on the door. There was a pause, and then a smooth voice called for her to enter. Ginny slipped inside the room, her nerves on edge and her eyes looking anywhere but at the blond seated on the hard-backed chair. He stood up and walked towards her, a disquieting smile curling his lips. There was no trace of the coldness she had seen in him that morning.

"I'm glad you came when called this time." His smile grew at her wary expression, and he reached out and twined a loose curl of her hair that had fallen out of the bun around his finger. "I would hate to have to hurt you again."

Ginny's hands trembled slightly. She clenched them into fists. "Why did you call me, sir?" she asked in a voice devoid of expression. "I have already done my chores for the day, and I am tired."

Lucius laughed. "My foolish girl, it is not up to you to decide when you are dismissed."

He closed the last few inches between them, a lazy smile stretching across his mouth. There was no doubt about what he wanted. Her knuckles burned white on her hands, but she held her head high, her eyes never wavering from his.

"I am not your whore, Mr Malfoy," she said with quiet dignity. "If there is nothing you need from me, I will return to my room."

Lucius paused, taken aback by her sudden display of spirit. He could not have known that her heart was thudding painfully against her ribs, or that the back of her neck was damp with cold sweat. Her expression betrayed none of her fear. Instead, there was a rigidness around the soft mouth, a stubbornness in the set of her jaw that suggested she had made up her mind and would not be persuaded to do otherwise, no matter the consequences. She looked vulnerable, but she had not been crushed into blind submission. Not yet.

A disturbing smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "You're right, Ginevra," he agreed, taking her chin in his hands and considering her through his icy grey eyes, "you are not my whore."

He let his hand glide through her hair, finding the band that held it up, and then he pulled it out, letting the mane of red curls tumble down to her waist. She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes darting up to his in anger and fear. His smile grew, and then, before she could even think to react, he had her backed up against the door, so that she could feel the hard wood pressing into her spine.

"So, Ginevra," he murmured, still with that disturbing little smile, "what are you going to do now?"

Ginny felt her resolve crumble away as his large hand dug into her shoulder, holding her in place with what seemed an effortless display of strength. His free hand traced taunting circles on her hip, gradually dipping lower so that she felt unbidden shocks of heat between her legs, yet the overwhelming fear and shame had her clamping up at his touch. Her body went rigid. She suddenly felt very sick.

"Well?" he taunted, pressing harder into her shoulder so that she could feel the fine bones bruising.

Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. "You know there is nothing I can do," she said hollowly, not even looking at him. "You've always known that."

His smile grew until it glittered nastily in his eyes. "Exactly."

Something broke inside her at the brutal admission, splintering into her heart so that the organ bled with her pain, her crippling defeat. She let her head drop, instinctively retreating into body so that even if he did touch her, it would not really be her that he was touching. All he could have was the shell: the worthless amalgamation of flesh and bone that protected the spirit inside. She would not let him have her. She would never let him have her.

Lucius considered her for a moment, and then he released her. "No," he murmured, "I don't think I will force you."

Ginny's eyes darted up to his in surprise, and he smiled at her in a way that was even more disturbing than the last.

"Don't look so frightened, Ginevra. What did you think I was going to do?"

"I—" She swallowed, her eyes wide and scared, remembering how powerless he had made her feel.

He laughed, and the sound was as smooth and rich as velvet. "I am not going to rape you. I simply wanted to ensure that you understand who is in charge. I told you this morning that I will not have you disobeying me. I am your master, and it is I who will decide what you will or will not do."

Ginny couldn't believe what she was hearing, yet the relief she felt upon discovering that he would not rape her was tempered with an unshakable wariness. That he wanted her was obvious, yet he said he would not force her to do anything with him. So then what would he do?

Lucius turned from her and headed to the small desk by the bed. "You asked why I called you here?" he said over his shoulder while opening the draw and pulling out a thin envelope. "I called you here, Ginevra, because I will be leaving the manor tonight and will not return for three days." He faced her again, his expression grim. "I'm sure you understand what that means."

Gone were the fears of being raped, though her heart continued to stutter brokenly against her ribs, bloodying itself against the walls of her chest. Lucius was leaving the manor. The thought gave her only a small measure of relief, for the sickening realisation that she would be vulnerable to Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters stole any real comfort she might have gleaned. Lucius had been her protection, her shield from the other's cruelty and spite. True, he had used her and hurt her far more deeply than their poisonous words ever could have, but he had still protected her when it had counted.

She shuddered as the image of Bellatrix's sneering face flitted before her eyes. What if Bellatrix took advantage of the blond's absence and attacked her? What if all the Death Eaters turned on her? Narcissa would be mistress of the manor during her husband's absence. Would Narcissa help? A hysterical laugh bubbled inside Ginny at the thought.

Lucius held out the thin envelope. "Give this to my son. You must show it to no one, not even my wife. Do you understand?"

Ginny failed to hide her surprise. She had never been asked to deliver a message before, and she did not understand why Lucius did not give the letter to his son himself—unless it was too dangerous for him to do so. Yet what could be so dangerous that Lucius could not give to Draco in his own home, or that his wife could not be trusted to see? Ginny's curiosity thirsted to know more, but she knew it was pointless to ask questions.

"I will know if you have read the contents," Lucius warned, leaving the threat lingering unspoken between them.

Ginny took the letter from the blond. "Should I give it to him tonight?"

"Yes. Before you go back to your room."

Ginny nodded. "I'll do it."

"Good, then go. And do be careful, Ginevra," he added, a faint smile curling his lips. "I would hate to find myself without a servant when I return."

Ginny paled at the insinuation and left the room with her head bowed, glad to get away from the blond. She clutched the envelope in her hand and headed towards Draco's room, which was on the opposite end of the wing. Thankfully, most of the Death Eaters staying at the manor had gone to bed, so she was able to bypass the rooms designated for the more important guests without mishap. The last thing she wanted was to be accosted by Bellatrix.

She stopped outside Draco's door and knocked twice. There was a moment of silence, then she heard light footsteps and the heavy wood was pulled back. Draco stared at her through the crack, his brow creased, and then he pulled the door completely open. Ginny's eyes widened and she looked away, suddenly embarrassed. He was shirtless.

"What is it?" Draco demanded, unmoved by her blushes.

She held out the thin envelope to him. Draco's frown deepened, and he took a quick glance up and down the corridor before pulling her inside the room with him and shutting the door. Ginny let out a small breath, conscious of his proximity and the warmth tingling through her blood from where his hand lightly clasped her arm. And then it was gone: he released her, taking the letter wordlessly from her hand, and then stepped back, placing a firm distance between them.

"Who gave you this?" he asked, opening the envelope and pulling out a sheet of parchment.

"Your father," she replied, absently pushing a loose curl away from her face.

Draco stared at her a moment and then unfolded the parchment and began to read. Ginny watched as he perused the letter, noting the way his eyebrows drew together and his mouth curved into a frown. He glanced up at her when he was about halfway through—a quick, interrogative glance—and then he stared back at the parchment in his hand. By the time he had finished reading his father's letter, the frown had deepened on his face, carving unfamiliar lines of worry across his brow. It was strange to see him so open, so troubled, but then his eyes darted back to hers, and in mere seconds he had become like stone again: unyielding, unemotional, and impossible to read.

"What did my father say when he gave you this?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing of his thoughts.

"Only that I wasn't to show it to anyone. Not even your mother," she added, watching carefully to gauge his reaction.

She was rewarded with another slight frown, and then Draco crumpled the parchment in his hand and tossed it into the empty fireplace. He turned away from her and picked up his wand from the bedside table, then calmly set the letter on fire. Her mind buzzed with curiosity as she watched the parchment shrivel and blacken, curling in on itself like a dying insect until it was no more than a collection of ashes. She longed to ask what was in the letter, but she knew he would give away nothing. The Malfoys were full of secrets—secrets they never shared.

"You would do well not to speak of this to anyone," he said, turning back to face her.

"It's not like I have anyone to tell," she said with a shrug.

He laughed, and the transformation on his face was startling, softening the forbidding edges until he looked almost approachable. "No," Draco agreed, amusement still glinting in his eyes, "I suppose you don't."

Ginny said nothing and brushed another stray curl away from her face. She froze when she noticed Draco staring at her oddly.

"W-what?" she stammered, feeling her cheeks warm under that piercing gaze.

"You don't normally wear your hair down, do you?"

It was the last thing she had expected him to say, and she tugged self-consciously at a lock of hair, feeling like an awkward schoolgirl again.

"No," she admitted. "Your mother doesn't like me to. I did have it up, except your father—" Ginny broke off in confusion, realising what she was about to say. "Never mind," she said quickly.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "My father did what?"

A painful blush stained her cheeks, and she looked away, feeling the bitterness well up inside her. "Why ask what you already know?" she muttered. "You know what he does to me, and it's not like you care anyway. You made that clear enough."

The silence was harsh between them, feeling almost like a solid entity.

Draco held her gaze for a moment longer and then, deliberately, unhurriedly, he turned away from her and placed his wand back on the bedside table. "You can leave now."

Ginny stared at him, anger and resentment burning through her blood. Suddenly, she wanted to lash out at this perfectly composed young man, to shatter the stone with which he surrounded himself. He was so detached, so utterly impenetrable, and for some reason this hurt her. She just needed to know that he could feel _something_.

"How can you be so cold?" she demanded, taking a wild step towards him. "Don't you care about anything?"

He glanced down at her through those granite-like eyes—eyes that betrayed not even a hint of his thoughts—and said nothing.

"Say something!" Ginny screamed when he continued to remain silent, only distantly realising that she was behaving irrationally.

Something shifted in his expression, and he closed the distance between, trapping her against the door. Ginny didn't feel afraid like she had with Lucius, and held her chin high, meeting his gaze boldly. His eyes were glittering, somehow darker than she had ever seen them, yet he remained inscrutable. This seemed to make her angrier, and she pressed her palms flat against the door, inclining towards him as she glared up at him. Their bodies were not quite touching, yet she could feel the heat of him pressing against her, as if their skin had somehow joined with invisible threads.

"Say something," Ginny repeated, her face now inches from his.

Draco stared down at her, his own expression still unreadable yet strangely intense, and then, impossibly, his gaze dropped to her lips. Her anger evaporated then, and she exhaled shakily, conscious of how close he was and of the disorientating sound of her blood pounding in her ears. He lowered his face, and her eyes slid shut as she felt his warm breath brush against her lips, anticipating the contact that was sure to come. Except it never did.

The heat surrounding her vanished, and Ginny opened her eyes to see Draco facing the other way, his back rigid.

"You should go," he said quietly.

"But—"

"I said go!" he snarled, rounding back on her, his eyes dark and filled with open loathing.

She flinched, feeling her chest constrict as she looked into that stony, hate-filled gaze.

"Don't just stand there staring at me! Get out!"

Ginny shook her head, a hard lump forming in her throat. She dashed out of the room, not even bothering to shut the door behind her. The tears did not fall until she was lying face down on her bed, cloaked in the shadows of her own room where no one could see. She didn't know why she cried. Perhaps it was because for a moment she had thought that Draco Malfoy was not as unfeeling as she had thought him—that she had found someone who actually cared. Perhaps it was simply because she had realised that _she_ cared, and that was as frightening as it was confusing.

She touched a finger to her lips, remembering how close he had come.

"He would have kissed me," she whispered, almost in wonder. "He was going to kiss me."

But he had not. Instead, he had told her to leave, even lashed out at her. She didn't understand.

Ginny curled into a ball, pressing her chin to her knees. She didn't know what was going on, but if there was anything she had learnt from her experiences that night, it was that Draco Malfoy could feel, and what she had seen in his eyes was pure, unadulterated loathing.

**X**

Lucius was gone by the time Ginny awoke the next morning. She had barely managed to make herself look presentable before Narcissa summoned her to the morning room—a command Ginny knew better than to ignore. Now she stood before the blonde, anxious and uncomfortable, looking anywhere but at the regal woman seated at the table, and trying hard to ignore her own exhaustion. It was becoming difficult to sleep lately, and Ginny had long-since lost her appetite. The combination was beginning to take its toll on both her body and her mind.

Yet it was not just physical exhaustion that troubled the redhead. The guilt was also gnawing at Ginny, unbearable and unavoidable. She could not forget that she had slept with this woman's husband. She had done it knowingly, and here she was alone with Narcissa, forced to act as if nothing had happened. It was impossible.

Narcissa stood up from the chair. "There will be more people arriving at the manor today," she observed in her cool voice. "Since my husband has been unexpectedly called away, it falls on me to make sure our guests are comfortably settled and their needs met." Her eyes snapped on Ginny's, cold as ice. "You understand what that means?"

Ginny nodded, knowing that what Narcissa was really saying was that _she_ would be the one who would have to make sure the 'guests' were comfortable, that _she_ would be the one meeting their needs. Her heart battered feebly against her ribs. She hoped the new influx of Death Eaters—for Ginny had no delusions concerning the guests' identities—would prove to be less antagonising than the last. It was bad enough with Bellatrix tearing at her spirit at every turn, and with Lucius gone—

Her heart became more frantic in its struggles. She had almost forgot about how defenceless she was now that Lucius had gone. There was so much happening, so much to fear. It was difficult to keep track of everything. Her mind was a web of confused thoughts, spinning and fraying into nothing, with Draco and Lucius at the centre. Like an alien heartbeat, they lived within her, flooding her mind with imprints and feelings, each vying for dominance over the other. But Lucius had left, and though he sickened her, and though she wished she had never let him touch her, a part of her did want him back. At least with Lucius she had understood what he wanted. At least with Lucius she had known that the other Death Eaters would not dare to hurt her.

Ginny stared at Narcissa, who had continued talking, either oblivious or just indifferent to Ginny's fear.

"Rooms must be prepared, of course," Narcissa said. "There will be five of them coming to stay, so five rooms will need to be made up. You can do that after breakfast."

"Of course, Mrs Malfoy," Ginny murmured dutifully. "Will you need anything else?"

Narcissa was silent for a moment, and Ginny chanced a look up, meeting the cool blue eyes that stared so intently into her own. Ginny saw the stirrings of something disturbingly malicious behind the ice that screened Narcissa's emotions from view and took an unconscious step backwards, unnerved by the sight. There was anger hidden beneath that calm facade, but there was hate as well—an intense loathing that seeped through the composure like polluted water, disrupting its tranquillity. Narcissa had never looked so alive, or so dangerous.

Ginny's heart thumped with sick dread. Was it possible that Narcissa knew of what she had done with Lucius?

"Mrs Malfoy?" Ginny said hesitantly when the blonde continued to remain silent.

Somehow, Ginny was more terrified than she had ever been with Lucius or Bellatrix. There was something very unnerving about Narcissa Malfoy. The blonde was exactly like the manor she lorded over: cold, imposing and filled with hidden danger. Ginny knew that she did not want the older woman as an enemy, but she feared she may have gained just that.

A frosted smile curled Narcissa's lips, and the dark look vanished from her eyes, so that Ginny had to wonder if she had only imagined the hateful glint.

"That will be all, Ginevra. You may go."

Ginny did not waste another second and hurried out of the room, almost as if she were afraid the walls might swallow her up if she lingered too long. She could not shake the feeling that Narcissa knew what had been going on between her and Lucius, yet surely the blonde would have done something or at least said something if this were the case?

_Perhaps she is simply biding her time_, a nasty voice suggested.

Ginny really did feel like the manor was closing in on her then, crushing her body with an onslaught of fear and pain. She wrapped her arms around her ribs, as if trying to hold herself together. It was too much. The paranoia, the constant fear. If she wasn't mad already, she would surely end up so—that is, if she even managed to survive that long.

She clutched her arms tighter to herself, slumping against the wall as she tried to breathe through her burning lungs. Black dots swarmed before her eyes, merging with the white flashes that danced in front of her like tiny specks of lightning. Something was buzzing in her ears, growing louder, almost thicker, as if it were solidifying into an invisible fog. She swayed, her consciousness slipping in and out of her body, so that sometimes she seemed to be looking down at herself, while at the same time she felt trapped in the darkness taking over her frame.

"Weasley?"

The voice barely pierced through the fog. She glanced up, catching a vague outline of a man walking towards her before a strange sense of vertigo overcame her. Hands, firm but gentle, were suddenly clutching at her arms, stopping her from falling. She slumped forward into his chest, fading in and out of consciousness as he held her.

The man shook her then, snapping her back to reality. "Weasley, what happened?" he demanded, giving her another shake. "What did they do to you?"

Ginny tried to respond, but her tongue felt like wool and wouldn't obey. She closed her eyes, finding it much easier to surrender to the darkness blanketing her mind than face reality, but the man gave her another shake.

"Speak, damn it!"

Ginny struggled to lift her face, meeting his dark grey eyes. He looked concerned, and for some reason this seemed to amuse her. She smiled—a drunken sort of smile—and then the strange fog intensified, and the world went black.

When Ginny opened her eyes again, she was lying on one of the parlour couches and had no recollection of how she had got there. She sat up, then instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea swept over her.

"Good, you're awake."

Ginny glanced towards the direction of the voice and saw Narcissa watching her, drink in hand.

"You caused quite a commotion, fainting like that," the blonde continued, almost lazily. "You must take better care of yourself, Ginevra. What use are you as a servant if you can't even do a few chores without collapsing?"

"I'm sorry," Ginny said automatically. "I don't know what came over me."

"Well, make sure it doesn't happen again. You're lucky Draco even found you."

Ginny frowned, realising as she pieced her memories together that, yes, Draco was indeed the man who had helped her. He must have carried her to the parlour, though she couldn't remember any of that. She wondered why he had even bothered.

She had not forgotten the concern she had seen in his eyes before she had fainted, but she could also not forget the cruelty and hate he had displayed to her the night before. It was difficult to trust or even begin to understand a man like that. He was full of contradictions, yet this was not the first time he had helped her. She would never forget that he had stopped Donovan from trying to rape her.

Ginny started, suddenly remembering something Draco had said when he had found her on the verge of fainting.

"_What did they do to you?"_ he had asked.

Not what had she done, but _they_. Was it possible the Death Eaters really were planning something against her? If so, why did Draco care? Didn't he hate her? Didn't he want her gone just as much as the rest of them?

Ginny decided in that moment that she would not rest until she had the answers. Draco Malfoy had eluded her long enough.


	4. Part Four

I am so sorry for the wait! You may (or may not) be pleased to know there'll be about one more chapter for this story—maybe two. I'll just see how the pacing goes.

In any case, I want to give a big thank you to Leigh for being such an awesome and dedicated beta-reader! You're the best, Leigh! Any mistakes you see in here are mine, not hers, so please point them out to me if you do see anything.

**Part Four**

Ginny heard the piano sigh forth in a siren's echo throughout the manor, guiding her to his presence. Oddly, Draco had decided not to use the piano kept in the parlour, but had taken up residence in the ballroom, perhaps preferring the solitude. Certainly his mother would not have enjoyed his playing, despite his obvious talent. The song, while executed perfectly, was strangely unsettling to listen to, with an almost bitter quality underlying its beauty. She knew it must be one of his own compositions.

Draco did not notice her standing in the doorway, and Ginny couldn't help but watch as he swayed ever so slightly in time with his music, expressing himself more openly than she had ever seen him. His movements were freer, and his face somehow more relaxed. For the first time, she could see beyond the wall of stone with which he enclosed himself, though the glimpses were brief. She understood why: he was completely absorbed in the song, focusing all his energy into the simple act of putting finger to key. However, as she quickly perceived, his playing was more than just an act; it was a release.

Ginny listened to the song more closely, realising she was getting rare insight into his feelings. It was more difficult to unravel than she thought. His playing was raw and angry, chaotic and beautiful, yet still so disciplined and controlled. It surged in giant leaps like a storm, building and building, and then would suddenly soften to the whispers of shadows, becoming darker, yet still gentle in its own haunting way. The only constant of his music was its elusiveness.

She took another step into the room, wanting to get closer, but the movement caught his attention. His eyes locked onto hers, and just like that the piano was hushed and his face turned into a mask of stone.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, standing away from the instrument.

Ginny had almost forgot her reason for coming, so caught up had she been in his music, but the sight of that stony expression recalled her to her senses. She held her chin high, trying to appear bolder than she felt.

"I wanted to talk to you."

His eyebrow lifted a fraction. "Is that so?"

Ginny clenched her hands into fists. She was so tired of the way he was constantly mocking and dismissing her, as if she were some second-rate human with no ability to comprehend anything.

"You know exactly why I'm here! What happened earlier—"

"Was nothing," Draco finished for her. "Unless you have something to add? You were the one who collapsed, after all."

She met his scornful gaze and felt her hand twitch, itching to slap the look off his face. Sometimes he made her so angry, but she had never felt as furious with him as she did now. He knew something was going on at the manor; he knew she was in danger—he had as good as said it when he had caught her before she fainted. But here he was, diverting her from the truth yet again, trying to turn her words so that she was the one in the wrong, so that she could never guess the secrets being kept from her.

How could she have not seen earlier the game that he had been playing?

"You asked me what they had done to me," Ginny said with forced calm, keeping her gaze locked with his. "Not what I had done, but _they_. Why?"

Draco turned from her to close the lid of the piano. "I think you must be imagining things, Weasley. I don't recall saying anything like that."

Her eyes sparkled with frustration and unshed tears. "Don't lie to me, Draco."

His face snapped back to hers at the sound of his given name, and she saw the way his eyebrows drew together into a frown, as if he were surprised she would dare to use his name without his permission. She took a few steps towards him, pressing her advantage, knowing she would never get another chance like this.

"You know something about what's going on," Ginny continued, narrowing the distance between them so that she could reach out and touch him if she wished. "You know that the Death Eaters are planning something—I know you do. Please, just tell me. Tell me the truth."

He stared at her coolly, his granite-like eyes betraying not a hint of his thoughts. He was like a stone citadel refusing to fall, and she was just the girl trying to breach his walls with her own bare hands: small and fragile, and completely useless against his inflexible rock. But she could not give up. Somehow, she knew he was the only person who could, or even would, give her the answers she needed.

Ginny reached out and placed her hand on his arm, feeling the surprisingly taut muscle underneath. "Please," she whispered, looking up into his dark grey eyes, their bodies so close she could almost feel the slight intake of his breath.

Draco glanced down at her hand, then raised his eyes back to hers. "What are you expecting from me, Weasley?" he asked in quite a different voice—one she had never heard him use before. He sounded almost . . . tired.

"I just want to know the truth."

"Why?"

The word lashed out at her like the sting of whip, and she flinched as if struck, dropping her hand from his arm.

"What do you mean?"

She didn't understand why he was getting so angry. Of course she would want to know whether she was truly in danger from the Death Eaters or not.

A mocking glint came to his eyes. "I mean why ask me something you already know? Or are you really so naive as to think that you can sleep around with my father and not suffer any repercussions?"

Crimson burned her cheeks. "I never—I mean, I didn't—"

Draco laughed. It was not a happy sound. "Gods, Weasley, you really do take the cake sometimes." He stepped back from her, a smile that was not quite amused curling his lips. "We both know you had sex with my father, so there's no need to deny it."

"I wasn't trying to deny it. I just—" She wrapped her arms around her ribs, feeling the seams holding her together begin to fray, but there was frustration as well. "You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand. I think we all _understand_. It's you who doesn't seem to comprehend the significance of your actions."

Something wild and hot flared to life in her chest. She locked gazes with him, her eyes blazing with the anger of a caged animal wanting release. "I never asked your father to take an interest in me. I never asked for any of this. I never _wanted_ any of this!"

"But it happened anyway, right?" He laughed again—the sound so sharp and unforgiving it seemed like the tip of a knife digging into her chest. "Don't kid yourself, Weasley. My father isn't solely responsible for putting you in danger, but then I think you know that."

Ginny could feel the animalistic fury building inside her, slipping through the cracks of her already strained control. "You don't understand," she repeated.

"I understand enough to know that my father would never force a girl to have sex with him, so you must have given him some form of encouragement."

"Encouragement?" she repeated disbelievingly. "I would never encourage—I _hate_ your father!"

"Maybe now," Draco allowed, "but that wasn't always the case, and you and I both know it."

Ginny clenched her hands into fists, her eyes smouldering with rage and humiliation. What he said was correct, but the very truth of his words only served to increase her frustration. She knew it would be wiser to leave, to stay silent, but an uncharacteristic recklessness had stolen over her, fuelled by the anger and pain coursing through her blood. She could feel the pressure building and building, and then the animal burst from its cage and words were spilling from her mouth, vicious and uncontrolled.

"What's it to you anyway?" she cried. "This obviously isn't the first time your father has done something like this with a girl, and it's not like I'm anything special, right? I'm just a blood-traitor trash servant your father decided to make his whore. Why should you care about anything that I do, or that he does to me? You all seem to think I'll be dead soon anyway."

Draco looked a little taken-aback at her outburst, but he pulled himself together quickly, adjusting his expression to create the mask of stone she knew so well. "Who says I care?"

She almost laughed, though only a broken sob escaped her lips. "Oh, of course. The great Draco Malfoy doesn't care about anyone or anything, right?" She closed the distance between them, holding her chin high as she met his cool stare. "Then tell me, if you don't care, why were you going to kiss me the other night? Why catch me at all when you saw I was going to collapse?"

Their faces were now inches apart. He stared at her wordlessly, silenced for the first time. Ginny almost wished she could recall her impassioned words—words she would not dream of speaking were it not for the strange exhilaration humming in her blood—but the reckless impulse to stand her ground would not leave her. Something shifted in his eyes as he gazed down at her, and she licked her lips, suddenly conscious of her fragmented breathing and the wild beating of her heart. He was so close. Too close. She could smell the cool, masculine scent of his cologne, and feel the heat of him enveloping her in the warmth of his life, his blood. There was an energy between them—an energy that was pulling her closer to him by the second, begging to touch, to collide.

Draco raised his hand to her cheek, fingers almost brushing in a caress. She let out a shaky breath, uncertain and on edge, even as she anticipated the warmth of his touch, but then his eyes hardened and he dropped his hand back to his side, as if only just recognising what he had been about to do. He stepped back from her, stealing the warmth and the energy back into himself, leaving her strangely unsatisfied. Ginny felt the disappointment settle like a stone in the pit of her stomach, but it was quickly replaced with anger, igniting the reckless fire in her veins, and blinding all power of rational thought.

"You should go," Draco said, keeping his distance. "The guests will be arriving soon, and their rooms still need to be prepared."

Ginny gave a sharp laugh. "How did I not know you were going to change the subject?"

His eyes narrowed. "You are speaking well out of your station right now, Weasley. You would be wise to leave."

"Why?" she tossed back at him, knowing it was foolish to argue, but unable to help herself. "You say I'm in danger from everyone in the manor anyway, so why should I care about your threats?"

"I am not going to play these games with you," he said coldly, straightening to his full height.

"Why?" she repeated. "What are you so afraid of?"

"Afraid?" He laughed, truly amused this time. "Who says I'm afraid?"

Ginny stepped towards him, meeting his eyes boldly. "Don't take me for an idiot, Malfoy. Do you think I haven't noticed how you refuse to be near me?"

Draco's humour abruptly vanished, and his eyes narrowed. "You're treading a fine line, Weasley."

"Am I?"

She took another step forward, watching the way his hands clenched in response. He was losing his control.

"You may not be afraid of me," she allowed, a twisted sort of smile curling her lips, "but you are afraid of what you might do to me. The body doesn't lie, you see, no matter how much your words say otherwise."

"Is that what you think?"

His tone was low, dangerous. Ginny stood her ground, even as a little voice whispered in her ear that perhaps she was pushing him too far.

"I don't know," she said truthfully. "I don't understand you. Everything you do or say should prove to me how much you hate me, but when you're near me, I—" She broke off, and her eyes found his, no longer angry, only confused. "Surely you must feel it?"

Draco clenched his jaw. "What I feel, Weasley, is that you have been here long enough. Now get out of my sight."

A humourless smile touched her lips. "You're doing it again," she observed, and she couldn't help the hint of triumph that crept into her voice. "I knew you were afraid."

The blond made a frustrated noise and closed the last few inches between, grabbing her by the shoulders and almost shaking her in his anger. She winced at the pressure of his fingers, but her expression was otherwise calm as she met his glittering eyes. She had been manhandled so often of late that there seemed to be little reason to be afraid now. Besides, Draco had never particularly frightened her. Annoyed her, maybe, but never frightened her.

"What are you hoping to achieve here?" he growled, still holding her tight. "What are you hoping to prove?"

"I—"

"You had sex with my _father_, Weasley. Do you really think I would even look twice at you after that?"

She flushed a deep red, hurt and ashamed by his words, yet knowing she deserved them. Her anger and determination seemed to dissipate after that, and the battered cage slowly enfolded itself back around her heart, holding her spirit hostage in a self-imposed prison. It was all coming back to her now: the darkened room, her body, naked and vulnerable, willingly embracing the man that would take everything from her. . . .

Yes, she had wanted Lucius. She had wanted all of him, but she had never truly understood what it would mean to be with him. She had only wanted to make the pain stop. She had only wanted to feel loved again.

She had never thought his son would come to mean anything to her.

Ginny lowered her face, though she was not fast enough to hide the tear that rolled down her cheek. "Of course," she murmured. "How silly of me to think it could be otherwise. It's only natural you would hate me."

He loosened his grip slightly, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. "Right. Only natural."

Ginny turned away, causing his hands to slip off her shoulders. She should never have come here. It wasn't like she hadn't known she was in danger, but she had wanted to hear the words from his mouth, to have concrete proof that she had something to fear. Her stomach twisted unpleasantly. Well, she had got much more than that from him.

Draco said nothing, but she could feel him watching. Her gaze shifted to his, and for a moment they just stared at each other, each knowing there were so many words left unsaid between them—still so many secrets. She stared down at her feet, finding it suddenly painful to meet those impossibly grey eyes.

"I should go," she said quietly.

Draco didn't stop her, though she felt his gaze follow her as she walked away. She took one last look back at him as she grasped the door handle, struck by how still and enclosed he looked, like an immovable statue. There was no getting beyond that shield to his feelings—not now anyway. Yet she had glimpsed the humanity behind that wall of stone, and she had seen that there was so much more to him than this mask of calm aloofness. She had seen the warmth, the passion, the fire—felt the very blood in his body speak to hers, so alive, so beautiful. All he had to do was close the distance between them. All he had to do was allow his fingertips to touch.

But it was not to be.

Draco turned from her and resumed his seat at the piano, not once looking back at her. Ginny exhaled softly and left the room, feeling like she was sealing her heart away as she shut the door behind her. The music started up again as she walked towards the guest rooms, and she closed her eyes, holding back her tears as she listened to the sheer beauty of the new song he created on those black and white keys.

"You idiot," she whispered.

All that time and she had never thought to question why she cared so deeply about what Draco Malfoy thought of her. There was no uncertainty now. She had felt the truth while she had stood before him, looking into his dark grey eyes as he reached up to caress her cheek; however, it was the utter pain of hearing him as good as tell her he found her disgusting for sleeping with his father that confirmed it.

Ginny wiped a stray tear away from her cheek, wishing she could take it all back—wishing she could change everything—but knowing there was no way to stop the feelings growing inside her. She cared for Draco Malfoy, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Idiot," she whispered again, this time more feelingly.

No good could come from this. It was obvious he wanted nothing to do with her, and yet—

"And yet he did seem different," Ginny murmured, thinking back on her conversation with the blond. "Almost tired, like he couldn't be bothered fighting anymore."

But fighting against what?

That was the question, and one she was not certain she could—or even should—answer. Things were changing, not just for her but for everyone. A strange uncertainty had descended over the manor, like one little shake could send the whole building toppling to the ground. There were too many secrets, and people were growing suspicious. It was inevitable that something should go wrong. Ginny just had never thought it would happen so soon.

**X**

It had only been a day when everything started to fall apart. The sun was like was a bloody disc in the sky, sinking into its nightly grave and taking the last of the light with it. Ginny closed the curtain, blocking out the unsettling image. She looked around the room, checking to make sure that she had covered everything. Satisfied with her work, she left the guest room and closed the door behind her.

Her steps were hurried as she headed towards her own quarters. The new guests had arrived yesterday just as Narcissa predicted they would, and Ginny had no wish to find herself alone with any of them. Two of them she already knew from her sixth year at Hogwarts—the Carrows, a cruel duo who loved torture just as much as Bellatrix Lestrange. The others she was not so familiar with, but the knowing glances they cast her and the way she could feel their eyes always watching made her paranoid with fear.

It was therefore a nasty shock when she turned the corner and found Amycus Carrow waiting for her, tossing an apple casually in his hand.

"Evening, darling," he drawled, catching his apple and smiling down at her in a way that made her skin crawl.

She retreated away from him, only to find her back hit against something solid. Startled, she turned and was confronted with another grinning face—this time from a grizzly looking man with one eye that had been stitched closed.

"And where do you think you're going?" came a new voice.

Ginny looked about wildly to see Alecto stroll out from behind her brother. Her heart thudded sickeningly against her chest. There were three of them, all armed, and she had nothing to protect herself with except her own bare hands. There was no escape, no one to help her. She could only hope they would not hurt her too much, for she had no delusions about why they had cornered her.

Tears of pure fear stung at her eyes, but she did not beg for mercy. She simply gritted her teeth and braced herself for the onslaught that was to come. Perhaps they would give her an opening to flee. It was all she could hope for at this point.

The Death Eaters smiled and raised their wands. Ginny had been prepared to feel pain, but that didn't stop her from screaming in shock when the first curse struck. She collapsed to her knees, holding her stomach where she could feel invisible needles piercing into her flesh over and over again. The agony was overwhelming, and Ginny knew she would not be able to handle it for long.

"Like that, little whore?" Alecto taunted, and then gave a wheezy giggle before finally removing the torture curse.

Ginny slumped against the ground, sobbing openly as her body shivered with the after-effects of the curse.

Amycus was still tossing his apple. "Looks like you've made her cry, sister."

"Oh dear, did I hurt the little whore?" Alecto bent down, tugging Ginny's face up by her hair so the redhead had no choice but to meet the older woman's eyes. "Such a pretty little face. It's no wonder Lucius took a fancy to you. I think I see some room for improvements, though. Perhaps we should—"

"What do you think you're doing?"

All four of them turned at the sound of the new voice, and Ginny couldn't help the small sob of relief that escaped her lips when she saw Draco. His eyes flicked to hers briefly—a quick, searching look—and then he focussed his attention back on Alecto. The older woman released Ginny and then stood up, flanked by her brother and the one-eyed Death Eater.

"This doesn't concern you, boy," Alecto said brusquely, planting herself in front of the redhead. "Perhaps you should just run along and leave us adults to deal with this little blood-traitor trash, hrm?"

"Actually, this does concern me," Draco responded, holding his ground. "My father asked me to keep her safe, and that is what I intend to do. Unless you want to go against him?"

The three Death Eaters exchanged uneasy glances.

"But Bellatrix said—" the grizzly man began.

"My aunt has wanted Weasley dead since the moment she first came to our home," Draco interposed. "I don't think her opinion counts for much. Believe me, my father will not be happy if he finds his servant gone. Or have you not heard about what happened to Donovan?"

The three exchanged more uneasy glances. Obviously they had heard about the Death Eater who had broken his neck while coming down the stairs—and the rumours behind the 'accidental' death.

Taking their silence as acquiescence, or perhaps just seeking to strike while they were still uncertain, Draco walked past them and reached down to pull Ginny to her feet. She lost her footing almost immediately, but he caught her before she could fall, encircling her waist with his arm and holding her close so she could stay upright. Ginny took advantage of his solidness and leaned against him for support, pressing her face into his chest, too dizzy and sore to care what he or anyone else thought. She was just relieved he had come to help.

Draco nodded in acknowledgment or dismissal to the three Death Eaters—Ginny didn't know which—and then picked her up in his arms and carried her down the hallway. He appeared calm, but she could feel the tension in his body and knew he had been more uneasy about standing up to them than he had let on. It was a strange realisation, but also a comforting one. He had been brave for her; he had risked himself for her.

She smiled and pressed herself closer to him, revelling in the closeness of his body and the warmth he gave. It always surprised her how warm he was, but she was grateful for it now. He glanced down at her, a slight frown creasing his brow, but he did not say anything and continued to carry her away from the trio.

They stopped outside his bedroom door. She looked up at him questioningly, but he simply carried her inside the room and kicked the door shut behind them, then locked it as an afterthought. She might have felt more apprehensive when he led her to the bed, but this was Draco Malfoy holding her, and Ginny knew that however cruel he could be sometimes, she had no reason to be afraid of him.

He set her down on the bed and then stepped back, giving her some space. Ginny felt too awkward lying down in front of him, so she forced herself to sit, even though it made her head sway. Her body was still tingling unpleasantly from the effects of the curse, and she winced as she shifted into a more comfortable position.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked, casting an expert eye over her body.

Ginny shook her head. "Alecto only got the chance to use the Cruciatus Curse on me."

"Only," Draco repeated with a humourless laugh. "You're lucky you're even conscious."

Ginny knew this was true, but there was nothing she could have done, and she knew the after-effects would wear off eventually—she'd experienced the curse plenty of times before. Right now, she was more concerned with the fact that Draco Malfoy had helped her yet again, and this time he had actually stuck around to make sure she was okay—even carried her to his bedroom. A crease formed on her brow, and she looked at him intently, suddenly remembering something he had said.

"Is it true?" she asked.

"What?"

"Did you father really ask you to protect me?"

"Yes," he admitted, though he sounded strangely bitter about it. "He wanted me to keep you safe for him—said he didn't want you ruined before he returned."

Ginny's lips formed a small 'O' of understanding. "So that's what was in the letter."

Draco nodded, folding his arms as he walked a little way from her and faced the wall. "My father knew you would be in danger while he was gone. They all hate you because of the special treatment you receive from him; it was only a matter of time." He turned to look at her, a wry smile touching his lips. "So he asked me to watch over you and keep you safe—not because he actually cares, of course; he just doesn't want you killed before he's finished amusing himself with you."

"You seem annoyed," she observed, noting the way he kept clenching and unclenching his hand.

It might have surprised her at how easy to read he was in that moment, but things had taken a drastic turn. It would have been more astonishing to her had he not shown some sign of emotion.

He faced her properly, his eyes dark and swirling with frustration. "How do you think it makes me feel, Weasley, knowing I'm protecting a girl my father has been sleeping with behind my mother's back? I'm _helping_ him have an affair, and Mother, she—" He broke off, taking a deep breath and looking the other way. "You have no idea how impossible your presence has made things for me."

"I'm sorry," Ginny muttered, staring down at her lap. "But I—"

"I know," Draco interrupted. "You never asked for him to do those things to you, but they still happened, didn't they?"

Ginny winced at the harsh quality of his voice. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"Forget it," he said with a tired sigh. "I know what my father is like. Even if you had continued to resist him, he would have got his way eventually. He always gets his way."

They both fell silent, neither knowing what to say after that.

"Do you think your aunt will try get those Death Eaters to hurt me again?" Ginny asked after a moment.

He laughed, though the sound was far from happy. "That wasn't my aunt."

"But that man mentioned—"

"Oh, I have no doubt Bellatrix had something to do with this, but she would have come after you herself if this was her idea. No," Draco continued more to himself, "this was my mother's work. She hates you, Weasley. She wants you gone, but she's far too clever to get herself embroiled in the affair. She would have got my aunt to talk to those three Death Eaters, hoping they would kill you or at least hurt you severely. My father would have been angry when he returned, of course, but you would be gone by then, or at least be of no further interest to him. With the Death Eaters for her scapegoats, there would have been nothing to prove my mother had ever played a part in getting rid of you."

Ginny shivered as she thought of Narcissa Malfoy and how cruelly and methodically the woman had planned her demise. It would have worked, had Draco not found her. There was no way Ginny could have protected herself.

She looked at the blond more closely, wondering how he must feel knowing he had been going against both his parents, and all for her sake. His father wanted her safe, his mother wanted her dead—he was simply caught in the middle. Yet he had chosen to help her. He had always chosen to help her.

"Why did you really help me, Draco?" Ginny asked quietly. "You could have just let me die, you know. All your problems would have been solved then, and we both know it wouldn't have been hard for you to make some excuse to your father."

Draco said nothing. He didn't even look at her.

Ginny stood up from the bed, ignoring the wobbly feeling in her legs, and closed the distance between them. She placed a hand on his arm, causing his eyes to flicker to hers. "Tell me."

He let out a small breath, and she saw the way the stone mask crumbled away, softening his features so that they were more open, almost youthful. For the first time, he looked like an eighteen-year-old boy, though there was still so much he kept hidden. She realised in that moment that his mask had never been created to shut the world out; it had been created to shut himself in. He had just been hiding behind it for so long that perhaps even he didn't know where to find the pieces to fit himself together again. But they were there, of that she was now certain.

"Tell me," she repeated, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

His eyes met hers, confused but so beautiful in their grey intensity. "I don't know," he admitted softly. "I don't know why I did it."

Her heart quickened in her chest, sensing in his words what her mind had yet to grasp. They looked at each other for a long moment, the silent seconds becoming almost tangible between them, and then, as if he had always known what he was going to do, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Ginny's body seemed to come to life in that moment, as if he had breathed some strange elixir into her lungs. She could feel her blood singing through her veins, feel her heart drum against her chest in a wild beat of passion and exhilaration, but it was the sheer warmth that enveloped her that made her feel more alive than she had since first becoming the Malfoys' servant.

Draco Malfoy was kissing her, and it was beautiful.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss. She felt like she could melt into him, and treasured every point of contact between their bodies, feeling that warmth grow ever stronger inside her. He held her tighter in response, encouraging her to open her mouth more so he could share with her his passion. Ginny could not deny him, and gave a small moan of pleasure when he used his tongue to speak to her in words no human could appreciate except in its purest physical form.

She was still touching his arm, and she traced the slender limb with her fingertips, creating a trail to his shoulder, and then to the silky strands of his white-blond hair. His own fingers found places on her hip and neck, guiding her into the angles that would give him better access to her lips. There was no reason to stop, and Ginny realised that she didn't want him to. She wanted to stay like this forever, warm and alive in his arms. His kiss was the breath of life, and she could not get enough of it.

Draco pulled back slightly, leaning his forehead against hers as he caught his breath. His lips were swollen and his eyes darkened with desire. She knew she looked the same.

"That was—" she began.

"I know," he said emphatically, looking quite stunned himself.

Ginny smiled, and then she suddenly remembered their situation and the expression froze on her face. He was the son of a Death Eater—the son of a man who had taken advantage of her—and she was just some lowly blood-traitor servant. She was not supposed to be kissing him. She was definitely not supposed to have feelings for him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, catching her expression.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Ginny said, pulling back from him. "If your father—gods, if any of them found out—"

Draco allowed her to slip out of his grasp, perhaps also realising the danger he was putting them both in. Then again, she thought he might have always known. If he had been more in control of himself, she doubted he would have kissed her.

"You should go."

The words seemed wrenched out of him, and the sound of his pain brought fresh tears to sting at her eyes. It was a mirror of her own heart, her own regret.

"I know," she whispered, wishing she could say otherwise, but knowing there was nothing they could do.

His eyes meet hers. "I'm sorry."

Ginny didn't know what he was apologising for—it wasn't his fault things were so wrong between them—but he didn't give her a chance to ask for an explanation, instead pulling her briefly to him, kissing her one last time. The kiss was soft yet searching, as if he were trying to memorise her lips. When he pulled back, there were fresh tears sparkling on her cheeks.

"Be careful," he said firmly.

Ginny nodded. "I will."

He touched her cheek in a silent goodbye, and she closed her eyes as she felt that gentle caress—so tender, so utterly different to the stone he seemed to encapsulate. When she returned to her room that night, she could still feel the warmth of his touch lingering all over her, like a calming embrace. A tear rolled down her cheek as she realised she would probably never feel that comfort again. It was too risky to be with him, especially now. His father would be back in a day, and the others—

Ginny closed her eyes, hugging her arms to her chest. "I can't stay here," she thought aloud.

She had known this for a long time anyway, but tonight had only confirmed to her that she had to leave the manor if she wanted to survive. It was becoming too dangerous for her—for everyone. Narcissa and Bellatrix wanted her dead, the other Death Eaters despised her, Lucius would get rid of her as soon as he grew tired of her, and Draco—

Her heart clenched. No, Draco would not hurt her, but then it was torture enough just to be around him after all that had transpired between them. She knew it would be better to just forget him, for both their safety; she just didn't think she could, and she knew she would never be able to let Lucius so much as touch her after this.

Ginny hugged her arms tighter around herself. There had to be a way to get out. There just had to. She couldn't stay here now, but how was she ever going to find her escape?


	5. Part Five

**I am so sorry for taking so long to update. Things have been very hectic for me, and then I just seemed to hit a block with this story, but I finally got there in the end. **

**This was meant to be the last chapter, but it started getting a bit long so I decided to just stop. That said, we're definitely nearing the end of this fic. I can't imagine there will be more than one or two more chapters. **

**Finally, I want to give a HUGE thank you to Leigh for being such an amazing and supportive beta. You're the best! **

**Part Five**

Ginny had tossed and turned during the night, trying to come up with a plan to escape. When she awoke the next morning, however, she was still at a loss. The magical bond keeping her bound to the manor was too strong; she knew that from her early days as a servant, back when attempting to escape had been second nature to her and she had still cherished dreams of being rescued. Those dreams had since faded, trapped along with her spirit in the battered cage that held her true self hostage—a prison she had created out of the necessity to survive. Now she didn't know what to do. Fighting had earned her nothing. Subservience had only left her vulnerable to attack. Resist or submit, it seemed that no matter what she did, she could never gain any real security.

She dressed with trembling fingers, anxious at the thought of what Narcissa and Bellatrix would do when they saw her at breakfast and realised she was still alive and unharmed. Perhaps Bellatrix would kill her on the spot for daring to ruin their plans—plans that would have seen Ginny destroyed by the Carrows and their one-eyed friend, had they succeeded.

"Get a grip," Ginny scolded herself. "They're hardly going to kill you after going through so much trouble to not appear involved in the attack."

The tightness in her chest eased as she realised the truth of this logic. Narcissa would never put herself at risk—the Malfoy matriarch was too clever and selfish for that—and though Bellatrix could be unpredictable, Ginny thought the dark-haired witch was still in awe enough of Lucius to not provoke his anger. For now, Ginny was safe from their revenge. Well, safe enough. A blood-traitor surrounded by fanatical Death Eaters was never truly out of harm's reach.

Ginny met the shadowed eyes that stared back at her from the mirror and finished pulling her hair into a tight bun. The fear was still festering under her skin like a disease, but on the surface she appeared calm. Good. She didn't want them to see how distressed she actually was. To show her terror was to give her enemies power, and they already had enough control over her as it was.

_I can do this_, she thought._ I can be strong_.

Her bottom lip trembled as the enormity of her situation threatened to overwhelm her, but she clenched her jaw, strengthening the lines of her mouth with determination. She would not let self-pity crush her. She had to be strong.

Ginny exhaled slowly and turned away from the mirror. Whatever awaited her beyond that door, she would meet it head on. She was a Weasley, the last of her kind. She had to be brave for her family. She had to survive. Because even though she had been beaten and crushed, her spirit bruised in ways that perhaps could never fully heal, some intrinsic part of her continued to hope. In that, she could not give up and allow the Malfoys to defeat her. She had been patient this long; she could be patient a little longer, and when she got her chance, she would make her escape.

Her heart clenched at the thought of leaving Draco, but the need to survive surpassed all other feeling. His touch might comfort, but it could not save. She knew what she had to do.

Ginny left the room and made her way out of the servant quarters and down to the kitchens to prepare breakfast. Once, back when she had first become a servant, she had planned to poison the food and kill the Malfoys so she could escape, but Lucius had thought of that and had taken the necessary precautions—he was always one step ahead of her. It was the reason she had never been able to leave the manor before, though he was not here to stop her now.

Her eyes widened in realisation, and just like that, a glimmer of hope snuck into her breast, thrumming in time to the beating of her heart. Lucius was the one who had magically bonded her to the manor. What if the magic was weakened now that he had gone? What if she _could_ escape?

Ginny placed the wooden spoon down on the bench as if in trance, her eyes blank and unseeing. She turned around in a daze, walking out of the kitchen and then breaking into a run as her mind snapped from its stupor and the adrenaline began to pump through her veins, urging her to hurry. There was no time to waste. Lucius was due to return today, and any moment a Death Eater or Narcissa could come out and find her.

_Run!_ her spirit cried in wild ecstasy, slipping out of its cage and filling her with renewed resolve. _Run! Run! Run!_

She dashed up the stairs and headed towards the doors that led to the grounds, closing her hands around the two handles and pulling hard. The metal burned under her skin, reacting to the magic Lucius had placed on her, trying to force her back. She could feel her palms blistering from the heat, but she refused to let go, and soon the doors gave away, opening into the pale morning light. Her heart skipped a beat, hardly daring to believe what had just happened, and then she was running again, her shoes crunching against the loose stones that formed the path to the main gates.

The world passed in a blur before her eyes: grand hedges and stone statues, imposing fountains and white peacocks—none of it mattered. Her whole being was focused on the black gate at the end of the path, which seemed to reach up to the sky like a dark hand, barring all from passing through. But not today. Today she would break free; she could feel it in her bones—in her very soul.

Ginny lunged at the metal catch that sealed the entryway together, pulling with all her might to release the lock. The gate was designed to keep people out, not keep people in; there was no reason why she could not open it, but her bond to the manor would not let her leave so easily. She felt the metal ignite against her skin as she tugged and pulled, burning her already blistered flesh until the pain was so intense she could barely feel her hands. Her mind screamed at her to let go, that the magic was too strong, but she knew she could not give up now.

She took a firmer hold on the metal catch, ignoring the shockwaves of agony that surged up her arms and the way her hands throbbed wildly like a dying heart. She could almost feel the blood pumping out of her artery-like fingers, but then something wet trickled down her wrist—something crimson—and she realised that she wasn't just imagining it, she really was bleeding.

_Let go!_ her mind screamed again, more frantically now.

Ginny ignored the plea and tugged harder at the metal catch. Her hands were slick with blood, making it difficult for her to maintain her grip, but she ignored that too. It was as if some part of her brain—the part that truly counted—had shut down from all rational thought and she could only focus on one thing: release the catch on the gate and escape. It didn't matter that her hands were being shredded to pieces, or that her very life was leaking down her arms. What mattered was getting out of here. What mattered was surviving.

Uncontrolled magic sizzled through her veins, awakened from its dormancy as her desperation grew. The fire was inside her now, no longer painful. It spread through her body, reaching right to the dying heart that had become her hands. She felt her palms pulse with life, renewed with strength, and then the catch on the gate lifted and the metal bars swung open with a creaking groan. Ginny cradled her ruined hands to her chest and ran through the gate, triumphant in her victory.

"Almost there," she panted, pushing through her sudden exhaustion. Uncontrolled magic always had its price.

The sky was blue and endless and the countryside below an unmapped path leading to a world of possibilities. All she had to do was run, but even as she urged her feet to keep moving, a sickening sense of wrongness began to take hold of her body. It started with her heart, which stuttered and then clenched suddenly in an alarming manner as if gripped by some invisible hand. She gasped and placed her bloody palm against her breast, trying to ease the pain pressing down on the fragile organ keeping her alive. To her distress, the pain only intensified, almost crippling her to her knees.

"No," she gritted out through tears, forcing one foot forward and then the next. "I won't give up! I won't!"

Her resolve seemed to give her fresh energy, and she continued to press forward, believing that this time she would make it. But then the invisible hand in her chest was no longer just closing around her heart. It seemed to be everywhere: squeezing her lungs, clutching at her legs, her arms, her very soul. It was as if her body were shutting down on her, crushed into submission by some unknown force. She realised the magic was trying to stop her from escaping, for the pain only seemed to intensify with every step she took away from the manor. Even now, Lucius was one step ahead of her.

"No," Ginny sobbed, still dragging her feet forward, refusing to believe her efforts were in vain.

If she could just keep moving—if she could just get beyond the reach of the spell—she knew she would be free. She took another step, then another, but the power of the bond was too much. Her legs finally gave out on her, sending her tumbling to the ground where she lay dazed and gasping for breath, still feeling the magic torturing her inside and out. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks. She knew she could not take any more, that the pain would surely kill her if she continued, yet she curled her bloodied fingers into the grass and tried to push herself back to her feet. She managed to get halfway up before the force of Lucius's magic slammed into her like an iron boot, knocking her back to the grass.

_Get up!_ her mind screamed.

Yet Ginny knew she could not. Her body was spent, her heart a sick flutter in her chest, like the desperate wings of a bird that knows it is about to fall. Black swarmed around her, and she rolled over onto her back, watching the blue sky fade in and out as a deafening ringing sounded in her ears.

_So much for the magic being weakened_, she thought with a bitter smile.

She sucked in a rattling breath that give little relief to her lungs, wondering if anyone would find her out here or if she would just be left to die. Then her heart gave an even weaker flutter and the sky faded from view again, only this time it did not reappear; the blackness that had swarmed around her vision had swallowed her whole.

**X**

She couldn't move. There was darkness everywhere, pressing down on her from all sides, seeking to hold her hostage. The pain that had crushed her body was gone, and she wondered for a horrible moment if she was dead. Perhaps the books had been wrong when they said the place beyond the veil was a place of light. Perhaps the life one could have after death was just another state of torment: trapped in a prison of fear and darkness. Ginny inwardly shivered, terrified that this could be her fate.

A strange buzzing started and the suffocating blackness pressing down on her seemed to lessen, allowing her deadened senses to return to life. It was then that she realised the noise she could hear was in fact two people talking, though very faintly. She tried to listen more closely.

"How is she?" a low voice asked, undoubtedly male.

"She's slowly recovering," the other responded, also male, yet his tone was richer with age and maturity. "I never thought she would get so far. She almost killed herself trying to fight the bond."

"I guess she was desperate."

"More like foolish." There was a pause. "I can't help wondering where you were while this was happening. I thought I told you to . . ."

The voices grew more muffled and then finally faded out altogether. Ginny lay paralysed, unable to do more than breathe in and out. The darkness was growing thick again, and though she fought against it, she could do nothing to stop it from drawing her back into oblivion.

**X**

"_Ginevra_."

Ginny's eyes snapped open, no longer bound by darkness. Her heart was thumping wildly against her ribs, reacting to the fear that had woken her comatose body. Someone had called her name—someone she knew she did not want to see. Her eyes darted left and right, seeking for the source of the voice, and then, finally, her gaze came to rest on Lucius Malfoy's handsome face. He was back.

"Ah, I see the sleeping beauty is finally awake," Lucius observed, and she could see the mocking smile lurking in his eyes.

"Lucius," Ginny managed to whisper.

Her throat felt raw and shredded, like she had consumed a mouthful of glass. She swallowed and tried to sit up, but both the dizziness and the fire that lanced through her bandaged hands forced her back. A defeated sob escaped her lips, and for a moment she just lay there with her eyes closed, wishing she could go back to the darkness where Lucius and his family did not exist. She was still so tired, and though the crushing weight of the magic had gone, her heart continued to roll sickeningly in her chest, clenching every so often with a sharp pain. She felt like she was dying.

"There now," Lucius said soothingly, brushing the sticky strands of red away from her face. "You need to relax, Ginevra. Your body is still recovering."

She shivered at the feel of his fingers against her skin. She wanted to shift away from that touch, to never let his hands come near her again, but she was so weak she might as well have been paralysed for all she could move. The force of his presence commanded her to look at him, and though she now longed to return to oblivion, she found herself meeting his gaze. There was a calculating gleam in his eyes—a gleam that made her heart roll all the more erratically and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle with fear. She was completely at his mercy and they both knew it.

"You've been a very foolish girl, Ginevra," Lucius said in a voice of steeled silk, now twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. "Very, very foolish."

Ginny tried to turn her face away, but he gripped her chin and forced her to look back at him.

"Do not look away from me when I am talking to you," he hissed, tightening his grip so she could feel her jaw bruising under his fingers. "You have already displeased me enough today; I suggest you do not push me further."

Her breathing quickened and she stared up at him through the eyes of a hunted animal, knowing she had nowhere left to run.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, even though she knew she did not want to know the answer.

The anger vanished from his eyes, and he smiled, showing a row of perfectly white teeth. "Oh, I don't think there is any need to punish you now. The bonding magic seems to have done enough. Besides, another attack might just kill you."

Ginny felt her heart stop, freezing the blood in her veins. His words should have given relief, but what she saw in his eyes made her stiffen with fear. It was the look a snake might give to a wounded bird before devouring the creature—the look of a predator that knows it has its victim right where it wants it. Ginny knew she was by no means out of the fire yet. He might have spared her this time, but she would be a fool if she didn't recognise there was something else he was planning for her—some deeper punishment that would not hurt her body perhaps, but would certainly hurt her soul.

Lucius took her bandaged hands in his. "Now then," he continued, unravelling the cloth, "let's see how your wounds are doing."

Ginny was helpless to stop him and could only watch as he unwound the cloth covering her hands. Her palms looked raw and shiny, yet mostly unharmed. She could see a constellation of tiny scars spreading from her wrist to her fingers where the skin had been shredded from the intensity of the magical fire. They too were mostly healed, but she knew they would never completely fade. She would be stuck with those scars forever—a constant reminder of her failed escape.

"Such little hands," Lucius murmured, and placed a kiss against her palm.

Ginny tried to pull her hand back, recoiling at the feeling of his lips against her skin, but he only tightened his hold, making her wince from the pressure. His eyes met hers, calm yet dangerous.

"You should take better care of these hands, Ginevra," he said softly. "They are all that keeps you alive."

She breathed in sharply, recognising the warning in his words: she was a servant whose only purpose was to obey, and she had best remember that if she wanted to survive.

Lucius held her gaze for a moment, letting the threat sink in, and then he released her hand and stepped away from her. "Get some rest," he said coolly, turning his back on her. "You're going to need it."

She was still breathing heavily as she watched him leave the room, her chest tightening and squeezing as her already strained nerves threatened to snap. A tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another and then another. Soon she was trembling, her body heaving with suppressed sobs—sobs that burned and wrenched, threatening to splinter her ribs and tear out her sickened heart. It was over. It was all over. She could fight no more. She was utterly spent: a shattered body housing a dying soul.

"_Don't give up,"_ a voice whispered in her mind—a voice that sounded strangely like her father's. _"There is still hope."_

Ginny didn't know if she believed that any more. Her soul felt broken and sick with despair, riddled with a disease that sapped all dreams for a better future. How could hope ever exist for a girl like her? She had tried to fight. She had tried and tried, and now she just wanted it to end.

"_There is still hope."_

Ginny closed her eyes, blocking out the world and the voice. Maybe there was still hope, but she was fast losing sight of it. So much had gone wrong. She didn't know how she was ever going to get out of this mess, and Lucius—

She gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of her master and hugged her knees to her chest, remembering the look he had given her when she had asked what he was going to do. She dreaded seeing him again, knowing that her fit of rebellion had only furthered his desire to possess her, but there seemed to be no way of escaping him. He would be back eventually: back with more orders, more commands, more groping hands that demanded she submit, but this time she knew he would not let her refuse, not after today. It was all she could do to stop herself from crying. She was so tired. So tired and so afraid.

The door handle turned with a click, and Ginny lifted her face from her knees in alarm, watching as the heavy wood was pulled open. She tensed, seeing a glimpse of a tall form and that unmistakable blond hair, but the eyes that met hers were not icy grey, but warm and dark, like dampened stone. Draco's eyes. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips and she relaxed the tight grip she had on her legs as the blond stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him.

Draco folded his arms as he leant against the door, and she could feel his gaze assessing every inch of her body, perhaps looking for signs of injury. A tiny seed of bitterness began to sprout inside her. Did he really think the wounds that mattered were something he could see on the outside, like a broken bone he could mend with a basic healing spell? If only life were so simple.

"You seem to be doing better," he remarked, pushing away from the door and walking towards her. "For a moment I thought you really had gone and got yourself killed with that reckless attempt to escape. You're lucky I even found you; any longer under the bonding magic's power and there would have been nothing we could have done." He shook his head, disapproval etched into every crease on his brow. "What were you thinking, Weasley?"

"I did what I had to do," she retorted, barely keeping her anger in check. "You wouldn't understand."

"What, by trying to get yourself killed?" He gave a sharp laugh. "You're right, I obviously don't understand, because your behaviour today was completely illogical. Those bonding spells just can't be broken by leaving the boundaries of the manor; you would have gained nothing but your own death if you had succeeded in getting any further. Hell, I could barely feel your pulse when I found you."

Ginny curled her hands into fists, feeling the bitterness spread through her veins until her blood felt toxic with hate. She could not believe that he had dared to come in here and lecture her as if she were a little child. He had no idea what it was like to be caged away in the manor, forced to suffer all the degradation and pain that came with being a servant. All she lived for was the hope of escaping, and here he was telling her she was foolish for even trying; he, who had kissed her, cared for her, and then had left her with Lucius when she was at her most helpless.

"I suppose you think I should be grateful that you saved me," she said in a voice trembling with rage and suppressed tears.

"Would you rather I had left you to die?"

Ginny said nothing. In her heart, she knew she should be relieved that she had been spared, but another part of her begged for release—to finally be free of the Malfoys and their twisted games of deceit and manipulation. If death could give her that, then maybe it would have been a good thing that he had not found her. At least she would have died with the dignity of knowing she had almost escaped. There seemed little chance of getting another opportunity like that.

Draco gripped her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Why aren't you saying anything? Don't tell me you're suddenly giving up now."

She swiped his hands away from her, holding her chin high, even as the ever-ready tears burned at her eyes. "Why should I be happy you saved me, Draco? So you could bring me back here? Back to grovelling on my knees and letting your father do whatever the hell he likes to me while your mother and aunt play murderess and plot my death!"

"You know I've never wanted that for you."

"But that's what it _is_ for me!"

They stared at each other: he unreadable, while she desperately tried to hold back tears. It seemed too cruel and unfair that he could be so composed towards her at a time like this, but she knew it was just his way. There was no doubt he cared about her; he had kissed her so tenderly that night, and yet—

Ginny dropped her gaze to her lap, unable to stop the drop of moisture that rolled down her cheek. "Why did you leave me with him?" she mumbled, a slight catch to her voice.

A crease formed on his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"When I was unconscious. Why did you leave me with your father? You—you know what he's like, yet you did nothing. You just . . . left."

Draco straightened slightly. "What did you expect me to do?"

_Protect me. At least stay with me so he couldn't try anything. Isn't that what people do when they care about someone?_

"I don't know," she voiced instead.

For a moment they were both silent. She could feel his eyes on her, perhaps searching for the meaning behind her words, and then he let out a small sigh and turned away.

"I should go," he said flatly. "It wouldn't be good for either of us if someone saw me here with you."

Ginny gritted her teeth. "That's right," she threw at him. "Run away. You're good at doing that."

His eyes flickered back to hers, hard as granite. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know that you're too scared to do what you feel is right."

"And what is that?"

She held out her hands to him, no longer angry but imploring. "Help me," she begged. "Help me to escape."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"I can't do this anymore, Draco. I can't live like this. I've tried to be patient, to keep my head down and survive in the hope that something will change for the better, but things just keep getting worse. That's why I had to leave today, because I knew if I stayed here that there wouldn't be anything left of me to live for. This place is killing me, Draco—maybe not physically, but every day I spend here is like having another fraction of my soul sucked away by a Dementor. I can't take it anymore. I have to get out! I have to, and you're the only one who can help me! Please!"

Draco took a step back, alarmed by her impassioned words. "What you're asking from me is madness. I can't go against my father."

"I'm not asking you to openly go against him. Just help me escape. _Please_, Draco, that's all I ask."

He shook his head. "You just don't get it, do you? You can't just expect me to walk you out of the manor and then think that would be the end of it. There's the servant bond to remove, and then somehow I'd have to find a way to get you out of here without arousing suspicion, which would be rather difficult since I've already protected you from the Death Eaters before. Then, of course, there's the fact my father would be very angry if he knew you had escaped, and believe me, he would not rest until he had you back again."

"What are you saying?" she demanded.

"I'm saying that what you're asking for is damn impossible! I can't help you, Weasley. I'm sorry that upsets you, but that's just the way it is. Besides—"

He broke off sharply and faced the other way, hiding his expression.

"Besides what?" Ginny asked when he continued to remain silent.

His body tensed. "It's nothing. Forget about it."

"Don't pull that crap with me. It obviously wasn't nothing or you wouldn't be acting this way." She stood up, despite how weak she still felt, and placed her hand on his arm, gazing up at his profile. "Tell me."

He glanced down at her with darkened eyes and she stood perfectly still as he reached out and brushed his hand against her cheek, letting his fingers linger in a caress.

"Maybe I don't want you to go."

His words were soft, more of a confession than an answer. Ginny felt the breath leave her lungs, but it wasn't out of delight.

"You would keep me here for your own pleasure?" she whispered, taking a step back. "Even though you know how much it hurts me? Even though you know what your father wants from me?"

Draco said nothing. She stared into his eyes, hoping to perceive the lie in his words, but all she saw was the stark truth: he wanted her for himself, whether it made her happy or not, and in that he was just like his father.

Something warm rolled down her cheek, and she reached up her hand, dazed to see the tear glistening on her fingertip. This couldn't be happening. He was all the hope she had—the only one who had ever cared about her. Now she just felt sick with betrayal.

"Why, Draco?"

He winced at the raw pain in her voice, but there was no apology in his eyes.

"Because I care about you," he said simply.

"_Care _aboutme?" she repeated, voice husky with tears. "You don't even know what that means!"

He closed the distance between them, taking her face in his hands as he looked intently into her eyes. "You're wrong, Ginny. I do care about you—far more than I should, far more than I ever wanted or thought possible."

"If you truly cared about me, you would help me escape. You would not keep me here just because it was what you wanted. You would let me go free."

He shook his head, and she could see the genuine regret in his eyes. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

His expression softened, and he reached out and brushed his thumb lightly against her lips. "Because you're the only good thing I have in this hell my father created."

Ginny felt her heart quicken in anticipation even as it cried out in pain, and then his lips were on hers and in that moment she was ready to just hold up the white flag and let him have his way. There was no denying that what they had together was wrong in so many ways, but when he kissed her she forgot about all of that. She forgot about everything. There was only him: his mouth, his taste, his body so warm and firm. He was all male and passion, and when he kissed her she felt as if she were breathing for the first time, as if it was only when they shared that connection that she truly felt alive. There was no way she could resist.

Her body seemed to sigh into his as he deepened the kiss, and she allowed him to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. Every point of contact sent a current of heat straight to her core, making her long for there to be nothing between them but the whisper of air, but she was still very weak, and it was the reminder of her physical pain that finally brought her back to earth.

"I can't," she said, breaking away from him.

A flash of guilt entered his eyes, as if he had only just remembered her condition. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. "It's not that. I just—"

"What?"

"I can't do this, Draco," she admitted, taking another step back. "Not anymore."

His face hardened, turning the darkened grey of his eyes to unemotional stone. "I see."

"I don't want to hurt you," she said quietly, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"But you don't want to stay with me either."

"No," she admitted, voice the barest whisper.

He exhaled slowly. "Then I'm sorry, for both our sakes."

"Draco, wait!" she cried as he made to leave. "You could still help me."

He laughed, and it was a very bitter sound. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm just as trapped here as you are."

Without waiting for her response, he exited the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Ginny sat down on the bed, dazed and feeling like all the energy had been sucked out of her. She stared at the unyielding wood of the door, unable to believe it had come to this.

"This can't be happening," she whispered, trembling slightly.

She had been so certain that he would help her, so certain that he cared about her enough to put his own feelings aside. Now she realised how naive she had been. Draco Malfoy was not selfless and he never would be. She was alone and defenceless, just as she had been when Lucius had first found her and offered her a place as his servant.

Ginny stared at the constellation of scars that had been burned onto her palms, and a tear rolled down her cheek as she saw her last hope of freedom fade into nothing.

"_There is still hope,"_ the familiar voice whispered from deep inside her.

She clenched her eyes shut.

"No, Father," she said aloud. "There is no hope. Not anymore."


	6. Part Six

**Once again, I apologise for taking forever to update. To cut a long story short, life has been hectic and horrid, and I've pretty much had no desire to work on anything remotely 'dark'.**

**I ended up having to split this chapter into two again (it was getting well past 10,000 words), so I'm not sure how this will read in its separated form. Most of the action happens in the second part, but lucky for you I plan to post that within the week, so you won't have to wait long to see what happens. ^_~**

**I should also note that this chapter has not been read over by my beta, so I apologise now for the typos. Point them out to me and I will fix them.**

**Part Six**

The bell was ringing. Ginny could feel the sound reverberating in her chest, swallowing the steady beating of her heart as if to claim ownership over her body. _You are mine_, the bell seemed to say, _and you will come when I call until you die_.

A tear slid down her cheek, but she brushed it away with an impatient swipe of her hand. She would not cry. Too many tears had been shed already for the hopelessness of her situation. Besides, after everything that had happened she found she was too exhausted to even want to indulge in sorrow. It all seemed so pointless now. Even the voice that had so desperately pleaded for her not to give up had almost faded.

The magic of the bell tugged harder at her chest, pulling her onward. Ginny sighed and put down the washing she had been folding. She exited the laundry room and made her way to the dining hall where she could feel the magic calling her. Narcissa was waiting near the head of the table, her back turned to Ginny as she stared out the window.

"You called me, Mrs Malfoy," Ginny said quietly, keeping her gaze lowered, as befitting a servant.

Narcissa turned to face her, and an icy smile touched her lips. "You're looking better."

_A pity. _

The words hovered between them, silent yet as clear as if they had been spoken. One didn't need to be a mind reader to know that Narcissa would have loved Ginny to have died from the effects of the bonding magic. It must have been a great disappointment when she saw the little servant girl begin her duties again, especially after her own murderous plans had failed. Ginny could only be grateful that Narcissa was too wary of Lucius to try orchestrating another assassination attempt. Somehow, Ginny doubted Draco would be as hasty to come to her rescue should the Death Eaters decide to attack her again. He had scarcely looked at her since the day she had told him she wanted nothing more to do with him.

"Is there something you need me to do?" Ginny asked, barely containing her impatience to leave.

Being in Narcissa's presence was making her anxious. She couldn't stand the way the blonde fixed those calculating eyes on her, as if Narcissa were trying to decide where she would most like to stick that sharp looking hairpin of hers into Ginny's body. It was unnerving, and Ginny itched to get away, if only to escape those eyes and the silent reminder that, one day, that pin would surely find its mark in her back.

Narcissa's smile widened as if she sensed Ginny's unease. She turned back to face the window, taking her time before she spoke.

"As you know, the victory ball is being held here tomorrow night. My husband believes you are still too weak to carry out your duties, so we have hired a house-elf to do the catering. Your role will be to see to the guests and act as a waitress during the ball." She turned, and her light blue eyes hardened into ice as she focussed her gaze on Ginny. "Do you think you can manage that?"

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy."

"You had better. The Dark Lord himself will be there, and we don't want to give him any reason to look down on our hospitality now, do we?"

"No, Mrs Malfoy."

Narcissa's lips curved into another frosted smile. "Such an obedient servant," she murmured, though not at all fondly.

Ginny said nothing. She just wanted to leave and wished the blonde would hurry and dismiss her, but Narcissa simply continued to watch her through those shrewd blue eyes. Ginny grew more uncomfortable and shifted on her feet, dropping her gaze to stare at the floor. She could almost feel the anger and bitterness gathering around the other woman, though Narcissa was still as perfectly composed as a porcelain doll. It was an unsettling combination, as if the blonde had locked all of her emotions in some distant part of herself, but the hate she carried had been left to fester for too long and now was beginning to seep through the cracks—minuscule bits of darkness that tainted the otherwise flawless mask of calm, though never enough to shatter it completely.

"I don't know what he sees in you," Narcissa murmured, more to herself.

Ginny glanced up so quickly it was as if she had been whipped. Her eyes widened in alarm as the older woman closed the distance between them. Instead of striking her, as it seemed Narcissa would do, the blonde merely reached out and twirled a loose strand of red around her finger. Ginny stood frozen, staring up at the other's face. Though Narcissa's expression was calm, almost pensive, there was a ruthlessness about that perfectly sculpted mouth that Ginny did not like. She knew she was treading on eggshells.

"Red is such a garish colour, don't you think?" Narcissa commented, releasing the lock of hair.

Ginny swallowed, not really sure how to respond.

"My husband has always admired red hair, but for myself I can't help but find it so _common_."

There was a pregnant pause. Ginny's body thrummed with panic, fuelled by the wild beating of her heart. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was not Narcissa's nature to be open, yet here the woman was alluding to a fact they both knew yet had never dared to utter: Lucius was interested in his servant—had even slept with her—and it was obvious his wife was not pleased.

"You look frightened," Narcissa observed with a faint smile. She would have looked almost amiable were it not for the vindictive gleam in her eyes.

Ginny's heart gave a funny lurch in her chest. She swallowed again, conscious of the sweat gathering on her palms.

"I—"

Something got stuck in her throat, choking her voice.

"Yes, child?"

Ginny closed her eyes, trying to calm her frantic breathing. It felt like her lungs were being pierced by hundreds of Narcissa's silver hairpins, letting all the air escape so that she felt nauseous. It was a shameful experience, knowing how easily she crumbled under that icy gaze. She had been so strong once. Now it was all she could do to stop herself from breaking down altogether. This was a confrontation she had never wanted to face.

Narcissa bent down, placing her mouth close to Ginny's ear. "Let me tell you something, Ginevra Weasley," she whispered, her voice as sweet and dangerous as honeyed poison. "Whatever threats my husband might make to you, whatever orders he might give—it is not him you should fear. Some day he will tire of your pleasures, and when he does you will lose his protection and all that is stopping my sister from tearing you apart. Death will be nothing to what she will make you suffer, and believe me, child, she _will_ make you suffer."

Ginny sucked in a shaky breath, even as she felt Narcissa's lips curl into a smile against her ear.

"You don't like the sound of that, do you?" the blonde continued, her voice strangely caressing for all its malice. "I don't blame you, but then all actions must have a consequence, and you can't escape the retribution of yours." She placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder and her voice softened even further, becoming as low and intimate as a lover's whisper. "You should not have crossed me, child. You should have realised that Bellatrix and I would discover the truth eventually. It was a foolish mistake to make, but then you are a blood-traitor. If you were smart, you would have never stepped foot inside this manor. You would have begged my husband to kill you the night he dragged you out from under that shed."

Unbidden tears burned Ginny's eyes. She wrenched herself away from Narcissa's grasp and swung around to leave, unable to face the blonde or listen to that hateful voice any longer. A hand on her wrist held her back. Ginny turned, meeting the icy blue eyes that stared so intently into her own—eyes that were not splintered with madness like Bellatrix's but calm and calculating, undeniably sane. It was a frightening realisation: this woman knew exactly what she was doing.

"Tut, tut, Ginevra," Narcissa scolded, still retaining her grip on Ginny's wrist. "I haven't dismissed you yet."

Ginny's heart thudded painfully against her ribs, terrified and desperate like a bird trapped in a room with no windows. She had never been claustrophobic, but right now she felt as if the walls were closing in on her and the air thinning so that there didn't seem to be enough oxygen getting to her lungs. She just wanted to leave, but she had a horrible presentiment that she might never escape this room. Something had changed—the same thing that had inspired the blonde to finally be open with her malice. A decision had been made, but instead of lashing out, Narcissa simply released Ginny's wrist and took a step back, placing a comfortable distance between them.

"There's no need to look so afraid, child," Narcissa said frankly. "I am not going to hurt you, though I sometimes wonder if it would be doing you a kindness if I did."

Ginny clenched her teeth. "I suppose you thought you were doing me a kindness when you ordered those Death Eaters to kill me as well," she muttered, unable to resist making a retort.

Narcissa allowed herself a cold smile. "So you figured it out, did you? Well, it certainly would have been easier for you had I succeeded. You're a fool if you believe you can still escape from the manor." She paused, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. "But there is a way you could spare yourself further pain."

A crease formed on Ginny's brow, and she couldn't help but be intrigued, despite her unease. "I don't understand."

"Think about it," Narcissa said softly, holding the younger witch's gaze. "You could end everything now. My husband never has to touch you again. My sister will not even have to lay a finger on you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Ginny's frown deepened. "What are you saying?"

The blonde slipped the hairpin out of her hair—no, not a hairpin. What had looked purely ornamental was, in fact, a beautifully crafted dagger kept in a sheath coiled with silver flowers. For all its elegance, however, there was no mistaking the deadliness of the blade. Ginny was suddenly aware of a much deeper fear curling its fingers around her breast. An awful thought was beginning to present itself to her mind: a twisted, terrifying, yet undeniably tempting thought.

Narcissa offered her the handle. "The choice is yours, Ginevra."

Ginny took an involuntary step back, shocked out of her paralysis as her suspicions were confirmed. The blonde merely smiled.

"Why do you recoil?" Narcissa asked. "I am offering you a chance to protect what little dignity you have left before my husband and Bellatrix strip it from your abused body. You know you cannot escape the manor, but you can escape the miserable existence you live here." She held out the dagger further, her eyes hard. "Take it. This is the only chance you will get."

Ginny took another step back, staring in horror at the older witch. "This is—this is madness! I can't _kill_ myself. Why would you even suggest that to me? I thought you would have wanted me to suffer."

"Oh, I do," Narcissa said calmly. "It would bring me great pleasure to see you writhe in agony for all the humiliation you and my husband have made me go through, but I also know it will be some time before he has satiated his little obsession with you. It would suit me much more to get rid of you now, and I think if you were to consider it through clearly, you would see that it would be much better for you as well."

Ginny shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. She had thought Narcissa would try to get rid of her by orchestrating another Death Eater attack; she had never thought the blonde would simply hand her a dagger and tell her to kill herself. It was completely insane, and yet—

"Take the dagger, Ginevra," Narcissa prompted softly, persuasively. "You must see that there is no point in carrying on. Your family is dead. Your friends and allies have abandoned you. My husband uses your body for his pleasure, and my sister has sworn she will torture you with every art of pain she knows until the last breath leaves your lungs. There is no hope in your future and no hope in your present. Whatever you do, you will never escape this manor. Why make it harder for yourself?"

Ginny said nothing. She just stood there, knowing that everything Narcissa said was true. More unbidden tears rolled down her cheek, and the sight of them made Narcissa's eyes gleam with pure satisfaction.

It was a clever tactic, of course—using Ginny's own despair against her. Narcissa must have realised she would never be able to get rid of the younger witch if she relied on physical force, and there was no saying how long it would take for Lucius to tire of his little pet. No, this time Narcissa had decided to take an even subtler approach, and as Ginny stared at the dagger held so temptingly out to her, she understood just how easy it would be to listen to that soothing voice, so full of wisdom and logic.

But could she really give up?

Ginny tore her gaze away from the dagger and stared back at the older woman. Narcissa must have thought she had won, for she couldn't quite keep the triumph out of her eyes. The blonde had never liked to get her hands dirty, preferring to use others as her tools than to take a life herself. This would be the perfect ending to the unwanted servant: a death by one's own hand. Ginny, however, simply lowered herself into a curtsy.

"Please, Mrs Malfoy," she said quietly. "I would like to return to my chores now, if I may be dismissed."

Narcissa's fingers closed around the hilt of the dagger, and her eyes froze to two blocks of ice. She was not so stupid as to misunderstand Ginny's meaning.

"You are making a mistake, Ginevra."

Ginny said nothing and waited to be released.

Narcissa laughed, and the sound was as cruel as her sister's at her most taunting. "You foolish girl. Do you really love your misery so much? What do you hope to gain by living on in this way?"

Ginny remained silent. She would not be goaded into a response, no matter how truthful or wounding the other witch's words.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow and then slipped the dagger back into its sheath. "Very well. I can see that you have made up your mind, though I cannot deny that I am disappointed. I was certain you would see the sense of my offer, but no matter. I can be patient." A cruel smile curled her lips. "You see, Ginevra, no matter what you do, you're still going to die. All you have managed to achieve today is to prolong your suffering."

There was a pause as the blonde stared hard at Ginny, waiting to see her reaction. When Ginny continued to say nothing, Narcissa's jaw tightened a fraction and she flexed her fingers, which had started to curl into fists.

"Still have nothing to say?" Narcissa asked coolly, though her voice was laced with just the slightest hint of petulance.

Ginny held herself steady. "I would like to return to my chores."

The blue irises flashed with a nasty glint, transforming the blonde into something vicious and primal. Ginny's heart stopped, frozen with panic, but then Narcissa gave a soft laugh and just like that she was the perfect porcelain doll again.

"Ah, I think I am beginning to see," Narcissa said, examining the redhead closely. "Yes, he would take an interest in you. You're quite the conundrum, Ginevra. Just when one thinks one has crushed the last of your spirit, you come out with another display of courage—albeit a foolish one." She shook her head and a wry smile curved her mouth. "Well, I'm sure my husband will take great delight in breaking you."

Ginny was stunned. "Doesn't it bother you?" she asked before she could stop herself, shocked at the callous way Narcissa discussed her husband's adulterous behaviour.

Narcissa raised a thin eyebrow. "Perhaps you should be asking yourself that question. You are the one who chose to remain in servitude to my husband." Her smile sharpened with malice. "I hope you enjoy playing the role of a whore, Ginevra, because that is all you will get until Lucius tires of you."

Ginny clenched her hands into fists. "I am not his whore."

"You poor, delusional child. You and I both know that is a lie, and believe me when I say that it will only get worse. You just watch. He will call for you—probably tonight now that you are looking better—and then he will demand you to satisfy him, and you will have no choice but to obey. So the cycle will continue until you will not have a strip of dignity left to your name. You'll be welcoming death by the time he is through with you."

Fresh tears slid down Ginny's cheeks, and it was with great effort that she managed to halt the flow. She did not want to cry in front of Narcissa—did not want to show any of her vulnerability—but it was so difficult to stay strong. Every word the blonde said was like a dagger to her heart, piercing deeper with each whisper of truth. The trapped bird was beginning to falter, realising with a weary certainty that the door was never going to open. She would flutter and scrabble against the walls, still secretly dreaming of escape, but eventually her wings would give out from exhaustion and she would fall.

Perhaps had already started falling.

A knowing gleam flickered in Narcissa's eyes, and she reached out and placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "There now," she said gently. Too gently. "I told you it would be better to just end things. I am not completely heartless, you know. I can see your predicament—how the very thought of him hurts you. That is why I am offering you this chance to decide your own fate. You can end everything right here. You just need to say the words."

Ginny shook her head, closing her eyes to stop the tears from escaping. It was all too much: the threats, the whispers, the sickeningly tender pressure of Narcissa's hand. It was all just too much. She felt like she was being pushed and pulled in every direction, never getting enough room to breathe, never getting a chance to think. It was just one attack after the next—one moment gentle, the next cruel, but always that unspoken command: take the dagger. Decide your own fate. End it all.

Icy blue eyes met brown, urging Ginny on. _This is right_, those eyes seemed to say. _This will give you your freedom_.

But Ginny could still see the bird falling, and she knew in her heart that there was no sense of liberty shining out from that dying face. She could take the knife and plunge it into her breast; she could make her blood spill and her heart stop, but still that bird would fall. It would always fall.

"No!" Ginny cried, wrenching herself free.

The blonde stumbled back in surprise—a surprise that quickly morphed into anger—but Ginny was already heading for the door before Narcissa could retaliate. Dismissed or not, she was getting out of that room.

Tears streamed down Ginny's face as she ran blindly down the hallways of the manor. She was not certain where she was going, just as long as it was far away from Narcissa Malfoy. It was sickening what the woman had tried to do—sickening and completely twisted. But what terrified Ginny most of all was how tempted she had felt to take the knife.

"No," she cried again, this time more piteously.

She wouldn't think about it. She would never think about it. That path was not an option she could take, no matter how desperate and painful things got. She had to be strong. She had to keep living. _Had_ to. Because if she didn't—if she allowed herself to truly give up—then everything she had suffered, everything her family had suffered, would become meaningless.

Her shoulder collided with something solid, and she staggered to the side, losing her balance with a sickening lurch. Hands reached out for her, grasping her by both her arms and keeping her steady. Ginny took in a shaky breath and raised her eyes to her helper's face, almost afraid of what she would see. Familiar dark grey eyes stared back at her, and she let out an odd little gasp of recognition, as if she were trying to say the other's name but there wasn't enough air in her lungs to form the sound. It felt like so long since she had been this close to him.

Draco loosened his grip on her arms, though he did not let her go. "What were you running from?" he asked, frowning down at her tear-stained face.

_Did someone hurt you? Are you alright?_

She heard his unspoken words and found she could not meet his gaze. The relief she had felt upon seeing him was quickly fading, and in its place burned a deep sense of betrayal. How could he show so much concern for her after everything he had said?

"I'm fine," she said hollowly, trying to slip out of his grasp.

Draco held firm. "No, you're not fine. Now tell me what has happened."

"What's the point?" she responded, lifting her eyes to meet his. "Nothing I say will change anything. You don't care about what your family does to me, remember?"

He flinched slightly, but he pulled himself together a second later. "I'm sorry, Ginny. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Sorry?" she repeated with a bitter laugh. "What is saying sorry going to do for me? Sorry won't stop your father from calling me for his pleasure. Sorry won't stop your aunt and mother from seizing every opportunity to have me killed. _Sorry_ doesn't mean anything!" She shook her head, angry tears worming out of her eyes. "If you really want to help me, Draco, then get me out of this manor, but don't you dare say you're sorry as if that is going to fix everything."

Draco held her gaze for a moment, and she could see the helplessness and regret in his eyes. It made her want to scream. He had no right to look at her like that, as if he actually cared. People who cared didn't abandon their loved ones to every level of degradation for the sake of their own happiness. They would do anything to help that person. _Anything_. But not him.

"Please let me go," Ginny said in a choked voice, suddenly finding she did not want to be around him any longer. "I just want to be alone."

His fingers instinctively tightened around her arms, though not painfully. "You're never going to forgive me for not helping you escape, are you?"

She shook her head, weary in her honesty. "How can I?"

He stared at her long and hard, his eyes so intense it was as if she were peering into a gathering of storm clouds. There was so much pain in those eyes, so much indecision. She could see how torn he was—how divided he felt between what his heart was telling him to do and what he was too afraid to even try. It hurt her to look at him, but then he lowered his gaze and all she could see was a veiled screen of marble.

"You ask too much of me, Ginny," he said quietly, letting his hands slide down her arms to her wrists. "If you were in my position, you would not be so quick to throw your accusations."

"And if you were in mine, you would not be so hasty to dismiss my pleas."

Their eyes met, brief and bitter and yet filled with so much longing.

"I told you I'm just as trapped here as you are," he said with a frustrated edge to his voice. "Can't you understand that?"

Ginny shook her head, breaking free of his grasp. "You say you're trapped, but you don't even understand what that means. Don't get me wrong," she added when he opened his mouth to protest, "I know you don't really want to be here either, but don't you see? You actually have a choice. You could disobey your father if you wanted. You could leave right now. But I can't. I _can't_."

Her voice broke, and she had to look away to hide her tears.

"I'm scared, Draco," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "I don't want to die. I don't want to live the rest of my life like some used up chattel, worthless and without meaning. I just want to have a future again. I just want to be free, but there's nothing I can do. I can't fight against your father. I can't fight against your mother, your aunt, or anyone else in the manor. I'm just a bird with broken wings, helpless and waiting to die." She stared back at him, tears clinging to her lashes. "Now tell me if you think I am asking too much. Tell me if I am wrong for not wanting you near me when you have denied me the only hope I had for escape."

He let out a small breath, and for a moment it seemed as if he might be persuaded to her cause. The scales were tipping in his mind, weighed down by her words and the guilt that came with them. She could see a glimpse of hope returning as something shifted in his eyes, but then the grey irises went blank, like a slate wiped clean, and once more did Ginny find herself looking at the man of stone.

"I have tried to protect you the best that I can, Ginny," he said quietly. "I have gone behind my father's back, acted against my mother's wishes, and betrayed the very foundations of my family and heritage just to keep you alive. I have risked more for you than I have done for any other human being." His jaw tightened. "And all you do is call me a coward."

"I—"

"Do you know what would happen to me if I actually helped you escape?" he cut in ruthlessly.

Ginny shook her head, her eyes wide.

"I'd be hunted down and slaughtered as a traitor. It wouldn't matter where I went, they would find me eventually. If I'm lucky, they might even give me a quick death, but that's not very likely given my record."

"You don't know that."

He laughed, and the sound was harsh and bitter. "Open your eyes, Weasley. This manor is a prison from which there is no escape. My father sold himself to the Dark Lord for power, and when he did he sold me too. I'm bound to that snake-faced bastard just as surely as you're bound to the manor. I can't leave. I can't do a thing."

"That's not true!" she said earnestly. "You still have your magic! You still have a choice!"

Draco wrenched up his sleeve, revealing the ugly tattoo branded onto his forearm. "Do you see that?" he growled. "That is a symbol of my link to the Dark Lord. With one thought he can summon me at will or, if that fails, cripple me with pain. Whatever free agency I had was destroyed the moment I got this tattoo."

Ginny stared at the Dark Mark, transfixed by the way the snake protruded from the skull's mouth, so repulsive and wrong. The very ink seemed to ooze with evil, especially when set against the flawlessness of his pale skin. There was something sacrilegious about the combination, like the thoughtless graffiti on a masterpiece. The tattoo didn't belong, yet there it remained: a single spot of corruption, ugly and irremovable.

Draco allowed his sleeve to fall. "I have listened to your sanctimonious accusations long enough. You blame me for your misfortunes and your helplessness, but you were the one who agreed to become my father's servant. You placed your life above your dignity, and this is the price you have been forced to pay." He shook his head, looking suddenly tired. "Don't expect me to sacrifice myself for you now simply because you don't like the way things are shaping."

Ginny stepped back from him as if she had been struck. "Is that what you think? That I deserve everything I get because I didn't let your father kill me when he found me?"

Draco sighed in exasperation and ran a hand over his face. "No. I just want you to understand."

"Understand what?"

"Forget it," he said wearily. "I can see this is getting nowhere."

Ginny opened her mouth to object, but just then the door to the library opened and Lucius walked out, holding a book in his hand. He paused, taking stock of the situation. One of his eyebrows lifted, and Ginny quickly tried to pull herself together, hoping that her expression hadn't given her away. Draco had already arranged his features into a mask of indifference, though that would mean nothing if the older blond had overheard their conversation.

"Is there a problem?" Lucius asked, shifting his gaze between the two teenagers.

"Not at all, Father," Draco said smoothly. "Weasley and I just had a little misunderstanding about a few orders I had given her, but it's all been sorted now."

Lucius let his eyes rest back on Ginny, who squirmed under the intensity of his stare. "I'm pleased to hear it," he responded after a moment. "I know how stubborn and contrary Ginevra can be sometimes."

Ginny clenched her hands into fists, trembling with rage even as the cold fingers of fear trailed down her spine. She knew he was referring to her frequent refusals to submit to his sexual advances. She also knew that he expected her to change that behaviour. He wanted a biddable whore to play with, not some screaming, sobbing mess who resisted his every kiss and caress. It made her sick.

Draco frowned as he watched the silent exchange. "In any case, Father," he said, hoping to change the subject, "I actually wanted to speak with you. Perhaps we could—"

Lucius held up a hand. Draco immediately fell silent.

"Has my wife told you of your duties for the ball yet, Ginevra?" Lucius asked, still not removing his eyes from the redhead.

"She did just before, sir," Ginny answered, staring at her clasped hands to escape the intensity of her master's gaze.

"Good."

There was a long pause. Ginny risked lifting her face to see what Lucius was doing. Her stomach lurched as she saw that he was still watching her intently, scrutinising her from head to toe. The cold fingers on her spine seemed to multiply, like grotesque spiders crawling up and down her back. Without even realising it, Ginny took a step back, instinctively placing herself closer to Draco. She had seen that look before; it was the same expression Lucius had worn when he had found her by the piano that night.

"If I may, sir," she said, heart beating uncomfortably, "I would like to return to my chores."

Lucius considered her for a moment and the faintest of smiles touched his lips. "Of course you may be dismissed, Ginevra. I would not keep you from your duties. There is much to be done before the victory ball."

Ginny dropped into a curtsy and cast a fleeting glance at Draco as she stood back to her full height. She was disappointed if she had hoped to catch his eye. The young blond kept his vision focussed on the ground, ignoring her completely. Something about his lack of acknowledgement pierced her deep inside. Her eyes started to sting and her throat felt thick and oddly tight, as if she had something stuck in it. Before she could let her emotions get the better of her, however, she turned on her heel and quickly made her escape. She knew if she stayed any longer that she would give herself away, and there was no saying what Lucius would do if he discovered she cherished feelings for his son. She didn't know if she could handle any more complications. So much had happened already.

_I won't cry,_ she told herself sternly.

Except the tears did fall, reluctant and painful, but visible nevertheless. She just didn't know what to do anymore. Nothing was going right. Nothing had been going right for a while, and now Draco refused to even look at her. He'd practically accused her of being selfish and ungrateful, and maybe he was right. Maybe it was wrong of her to expect him to risk his life to save her own, but what else could she have done? It was either that or give up altogether, and she could never have done that. Not that it made much difference now.

Ginny paused in her steps, overcome by the enormity of her own helplessness.

"Is this really how it will end?"

The words escaped in a whisper of breath, demanding an answer she could not provide. It wasn't until that moment that she realised she had still been hoping for some miraculous opportunity to escape. Even in her darkest hours, even when she had thought all hope was lost, she had continued to dream of open windows and blue skies, believing against all odds that she would not be that trapped bird forever. Except now she was not so certain. Now she was confronted with an ugly black tattoo that could not be ignored, and eyes of burning ice that wanted to possess her body and soul. The blindfold had been removed, and all she could see was the terrifying truth: that Lucius had the whole manor caught up in his web, and she and Draco were just hanging there like helpless puppets, waiting for the curtain to fall.

"It was always going to turn out this way," Ginny murmured, hollow in her certainty. "Lucius was never going to let me go, no matter how much I resisted or complied with his wishes."

She could rebel and scream, cry and complain, but it would still mean nothing. Lucius would have her; he would make sure he used up every last bit of her worth, and when he was finished he would toss her aside for his wife and sister-in-law to do with her as they pleased. Then she would die, abused and alone, and knowing that all of her struggles, all of her suffering, had been in vain.

Ginny closed her eyes, conscious of the fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. There were no more visions playing in her mind of open windows and blue skies; there was just the image of a bird with clipped wings, falling helplessly.

And somewhere down below she knew a man with icy grey eyes stood, waiting with his palm outstretched.


	7. Part Seven

**There will be some things of a graphic and disturbing nature in this chapter, including blood and violence. Consider yourself warned.**

**Once again, this chapter has not been beta'd, so please tell me if you see any typos, etc. **

**Part Seven**

Ginny was just getting ready for bed when she heard the familiar ring of the bell. She couldn't understand why she was being called so late, yet the bonding magic continued to curl its fingers around her chest, squeezing and pulling at her heart in a merciless demand for her to follow.

"_Come,"_ a smooth voice ordered, interlaced with the magic. "_Come to me now_."

Ginny's stomach plummeted as she realised it was Lucius Malfoy calling. She had feared that this would happen ever since Narcissa had put the idea into her head. Even now, Ginny could hear the malicious words echo in her mind as clearly as when they had first been spoken:

"_He will call for you—probably tonight now that you are looking better—and then he will demand you to satisfy him, and you will have no choice but to obey._ _So the cycle will continue until you will not have a strip of dignity left to your name. You'll be welcoming death by the time he is through with you."_

Warm tears rolled down her cheeks, yet inside she felt as hollow as an abandoned shell. Only her heart continued to throb, slow and painful—a wounded thing crying out its dying beat. She knew that the time for dreams and delusions was over. There was no ignoring the truth: she was a servant, a mere possession, and whether she liked it or not, she would become Lucius Malfoy's whore.

"I have no choice," she whispered in anguish.

She couldn't even ignore the summons. The pain encircling her heart was so intense that she was already heading for her bedroom door—anything to alleviate the pressure that crushed her body and soul. There was no alternative. She had to move. She had to obey. She had to go to _him_.

"_Come,"_ the voice repeated, so powerful now that it eclipsed a siren's song. "_Come to me now."_

Ginny stumbled out of the room, clutching a hand to her chest in an attempt to ease the steel-like fingers that continued to squeeze her heart. She was barefoot and dressed only in a flimsy white nightgown, but her appearance was of little consequence to her in that moment. All that mattered was to keep moving, though the closer she got to her master, the more dead she felt. It was as if there was a pit of emptiness building inside her, eating her from the inside out.

She knew that she was walking into his hands. She also knew that she could not turn back.

More tears slipped free, but she simply brushed them aside and continued to let the magic pull her onwards. Her cheeks were dry and her eyes lifeless by the time she got to Lucius's door. She knocked once and entered after receiving permission, then closed the door behind her as instructed. Lucius sat before her at a small table, handsome and sleek as ever, and looking so cruel in his triumph. He was like a cat purring in satisfaction, and she was just the bird who had walked into his claws.

"Was there something you need, sir?" she asked in a hollow voice.

She already knew what he wanted. She could see it in the way his eyes slid down her body, resting on her breasts and hips, before travelling back to her face. Still, it was customary to ask, and there was always the off chance that he might have called her for something other than to satisfy his lust. Not that she really believed that.

Lucius's mouth curved into a smile as he noted her rather transparent nightgown. "I'm afraid I summoned you at an inconvenient time," he observed, voice low and dripping with false sympathy. "I seem to have caught you in your sleeping attire."

"I am tired, sir," she said tightly. "I had hoped to have an early night."

The hint for him to let her go was clear, yet Lucius merely allowed his smile to widen a fraction and then he ordered her to pour him a drink. Ginny wordlessly crossed the room to where he sat and picked up the bottle of wine from his desk. The cork had already been removed and the bottle itself was considerably lighter; this was not his first glass.

Her heart plummeted like a stone dropped in water. There was no mistaking why he had called her now, but apart from the slight clenching of her jaw, she did not show her unease. Instead, she tipped the bottle on its side and watched as the ruby liquid tumbled out to fill his glass, looking disturbingly like blood spilling from a wound. His eyes followed her every move, cold yet intense, just like the burning ice she remembered. The bottle trembled in her hand, and a few drops of red escaped the cup and splashed against the wood.

"Careful, Ginevra," Lucius murmured, reaching out to steady her grip.

Ginny inhaled sharply at his touch and allowed him to guide her hand into placing the bottle back on the desk. She made to step away, wanting to remove all contact between them, but his fingers tightened around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. Her heart gave another sickening lurch, and she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. He smiled, looking more than ever like a predator about to move in for the kill. It occurred to her just how close they were—close enough for her to smell the alcohol on his breath and see the way his pupils dilated ever so slightly, swallowing the grey in a pool of black.

"Stay."

The command was spoken in a voice of velvet and steel; he was trying to be gentle, yet he could not completely disguise the threat that lurked beneath his charm. She wondered how she had ever deluded herself into thinking this man could be kind. It was obvious to her now that he could never be anything more than a force of coldness and destructive passion, just like the burning ice she saw in his eyes.

Those same grey irises held her gaze now, paralysing her in place. She had to repress a shiver of distaste as he trailed his fingers up her arm, tickling her bare skin. His smile widened as he brought his free hand to rest on her hip. The imprint of his palm burned through her nightdress—an unpleasant fire that made her feel ill to the very depths of her stomach. She wished he would not touch her—couldn't stand the contact, in fact. It seemed that he wasn't just defiling her body; he was defiling her soul.

And she was letting him.

Ginny winced at her own passiveness. She hated herself in that moment. Once she would have fought with every tooth and nail to stop him from degrading her in such a way. Now she just remained motionless as he got up from his chair and stood behind her, his body so close she could feel his chest brushing against her back with every breath he exhaled. She trembled slightly, feeling the multitudes of spiders return their crawling on her spine and her heart pound in a frenzied tattoo against her ribs. Lucius leaned down and placed a small kiss on her shoulder, gently moving her hair out of the way so he could have better access to her neck. He was so oblivious to her disgust, so consumed by his need to possess. He thought she was enjoying herself. It made her want to be sick.

"Stop!" she begged, unable to bear it any longer. "Please, just let me go."

Lucius laughed softly, and her breath hitched as he closed his hand over her breast. She squirmed and tried to push his hand away, but this only made him tighten his grip. His free hand slipped down between her legs, teasing her through the thin cotton of her nightdress and underwear. Ginny was ashamed at the noise that escaped her lips—a helpless reaction, born from her body's weakness.

"Still want me to stop?" he murmured, and his breath was hot on her ear as he gave another low chuckle.

She could feel the vibrations of his amusement travel through her body like poison injected into her bloodstream. A flare of pure hate pulsed in her heart, so toxic it hurt. She couldn't stand this—couldn't stand any of it. Lucius was still planting random kisses on her neck, still touching her with invasive fingers. There was no stopping him, yet she knew it had to stop. It had to stop _now_. She could not spend the rest of her life like this.

Ginny's knuckles burned white as the hate continued to build inside her, pumping through her veins and renewing her with dark energy. Lucius pushed the straps of her nightdress down to bare her breasts, and just like that something snapped in her mind. She shoved back at him with the full weight of her body, no longer caring if it was pointless to fight back; she just had to stop him from touching her. Lucius stumbled backwards with a muffled oath, and Ginny immediately broke free of his slackened grip and tried to make a run for the door. He snarled something incoherent, and she felt his fingers dig into her arm as he tried to find purchase. An involuntary scream escaped her throat, and she swung around and kicked him hard in the shin—hard enough to make him release her again.

"You little bitch!" he swore, and reached into his robe for his wand.

She gave a frightened sob and staggered backwards, colliding with the desk. Something wet fell on her hand and she looked down to see a drop of red spreading on her skin, like blood emerging from an invisible wound. Her gaze immediately shifted to the flute of wine that was still sitting on the desk, and she snatched it up and lunged towards Lucius just as he raised his wand. There was the sound of splintering glass and then Ginny stood frozen, her heart pumping with adrenaline as she met the icy grey eyes that were now inches from her face. Lucius's expression could only be described as murderous, but then he opened his mouth to speak and all that came out was an awful gurgling sound, followed by a trickle of crimson.

Ginny gasped and stepped back, her eyes wide as she realised what she had done. Her fingers tightened around what was left of the shattered wineglass; the rest was buried inside Lucius Malfoy's throat, sticking out of the shredded flesh like some grotesque crystal display, all of which was bathed in ribbons of red. Her stomach muscles twisted in a violent need to retch, but nothing came up; she just stood there paralysed, trapped by the power of those murderous grey eyes and the horror of what she was seeing.

Lucius took an unsteady step forward, still with his wand pointed at her face. Her heart stuttered in panic and she once again found her back hitting against the desk. He looked like something from a nightmare: a monster smothered in blood, ready to slaughter anything that got in his way. She was terrified to think that he might still be able to speak an incantation for a spell, let alone touch her, but then he faltered. For a moment Lucius just stood there with his wand raised, still making that awful gurgling sound as he tried to breathe through the blood and glass choking his throat. Then he clutched a hand to his mutilated neck, gasping so horridly that she cringed. His eyes got a glazed look, and she watched as the hate-filled intensity of his glare began to fade with each failed breath.

He was drowning. Drowning on blood and tainted air. It was sickening to watch, and though she desperately wanted to look away, she found her gaze riveted to those dimming eyes, watching the last shred of awareness slip from his irises before his body collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap. Then there was silence.

Ginny wasn't sure how long she stood there, just staring at the body on the floor. She felt numb and disorientated, barely conscious of the pain twisting through the nerves in her hand. It was only when her palm gave a particularly nasty throb that she realised something was wrong. She glanced down and saw that she was still clenching the broken wineglass—clenching so hard that the jagged edges had pierced her skin, while some of the pieces had snapped off entirely and burrowed into her flesh.

She watched in detached fascination as crimson blossomed forth in vibrant petals and then wilted a second later to form webs of blood down her wrist. There was no escaping the colour. Everything was red. Everything smothered in the touch of pain and death. It stained her body, the white of her nightdress, but there was no telling where her blood stopped and where his began. Her hands were a fusion of their lives, mixing what should never have been mixed on a punctured canvas.

The bloody palms began to shake. Lucius had always told her to take care of her hands. He'd told her that she'd be of no use to him without them—that they were all that kept her alive. Now those hands were more scarred than ever, though he had proven right about one thing: they were all that had kept her alive. Her hands had driven the glass into his neck; her hands had twisted and pushed, shredding the fine layers of membrane to release the lifeblood that flowed through his veins. It had been she who had stopped him, and now he would never touch her again.

She laughed at the irony—a tired, hysterical laugh that sounded so splintered with madness that it frightened her. The jolt of alarm was enough to bring her back to her senses, and a ragged breath escaped her lips. She dropped the remnants of the wineglass to the floor and collapsed to her knees, feeling suddenly exhausted. The shock was wearing off and in its place truth burned with a painful brightness: Lucius Malfoy was gone. He was _gone_.

Ginny closed her eyes, bowing her head as a muddle of emotions swept through her body. She should have felt relieved, yet chief amongst the conflict and confusion was an eroding emptiness that refused to fade. Nothing had changed. Lucius was gone and nothing had changed. She was still trapped, still terrified, still so terribly alone.

The hollow feeling seemed to surround her then, sealing her up in a cocoon of nothingness. She might have knelt there forever had the door not opened and someone entered the room. There was a strangled oath, and Ginny was only vaguely aware of a person rushing past her to examine Lucius's body. She could hear the newcomer's distress: the constant mutters of denial, so much like a child's, and the way he—for it was a he—searched for a pulse that could not be found.

"No," he said softly, and then a shadow loomed over her. "What have you done?"

Ginny remained frozen, staring down at her blood-stained hands.

His fingers dug into her shoulders, shaking her slightly as he forced her to look up at him. "Damn it, Ginny, what have you done?"

She met the dark grey eyes that confronted her, seeing the conflict and pain reflected in his handsome face, so like his father's and yet not. A few tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I killed him, Draco," she whispered. "I couldn't help it. He came after me and I just—I just—"

Her body quivered as she remembered what it had felt like to push the cup into Lucius Malfoy's throat; to feel the glass crack and twist, shattering to pieces in her palm, and then the warm rush of blood. It had sickened her, frightened her, but there was another part of her that had delighted in the destruction. Lucius had hurt her so much. He had clipped her wings.

Draco released his grip on her shoulders, and his eyes widened as he noticed the blood that stained her nightdress and which even now continued to drip from her hands. He spotted the bits of glass that had been embedded into her skin, and without a word he took her hand and began to remove the pieces. Ginny couldn't help but remember that Lucius had done the same for her once, though, unlike his father, there was nothing amorous about the way Draco touched her. The young blond was deft and precise, not going out of his way to hurt her, but not taking the time to lessen her pain either. She thought she could guess why. Lucius had wounded them both, but it was obvious that Draco still cared enough about his father to feel the loss. It would be too much to expect him to forgive her for everything, even if he could understand why she had done it.

Ginny swallowed back the tears that burned her throat, feeling the sudden chasm between them grow wider. "How did you know I was in here?" she asked, deciding to change the subject.

"I heard you scream," he responded shortly, still examining her hand. "Anyone else could have heard you as well, so we're going to have to be quick."

"Quick for what?"

Draco used his wand to seal up the last of her cuts and then met her eyes grimly. "Quick to get you out of here. The moment my mother and aunt get wind of this there will be hell to pay, and there's no saying what the other Death Eaters will do now that my father is gone; he was the only one who could keep them under control besides the Dark Lord." The blond shook his head, looking suddenly haggard and as if he had aged twenty years. "You have no idea what you've set in motion."

Ginny allowed him to lift her back to her feet. "But how can we escape? The bonding magic—"

"Passed onto me the moment you killed my father," he interposed. "I am the head of the Malfoy family now; I am the one who holds the power to release you. There will be nothing to stop you from leaving once I remove the servant bond, but we have to go now before anyone finds us."

Ginny nodded her head. "Okay, let's go."

"Wait." Draco reached down and grabbed his father's wand from where it lay on the floor. He wiped the blood off the wood with his sleeve and then handed it to Ginny. "You might need this."

She took the wand and immediately the dormant magic awakened inside of her, humming through her veins and filling her with a sense of power. She let out a sigh of relief. It had been so long since she had been able to access her magic. Now she felt whole again, just like a real witch.

"Come on," Draco muttered, and grasped her by the wrist, leading her out of the room.

Ginny followed him down the hallway, half-stumbling to keep up with his longer strides. It was just as they were getting to the main staircase that the alarm sounded. Narcissa's magically amplified voice echoed throughout the manor, ordering the Death Eaters to begin a search for Ginevra Weasley and to make sure that all the wards blocking departure were still in place. Lucius had been murdered and his killer must be stopped.

Draco grunted in frustration and started running down the stairs, dragging Ginny so ruthlessly along with him that she thought her arm would pop out of its socket. She understood his need for urgency, though, and so did not complain. Better to feel a little pain now than to be caught and experience the torture she knew Narcissa and Bellatrix would make her suffer.

That was when a new thought occurred to her.

"How did your mother know it was me?" Ginny asked, and then let out a yelp as she slipped on the stair.

Draco pulled her back against his chest, wrapping one arm tight around her middle to stop her from falling. His expression was grim as he met her eyes. "The wound," he explained. "Only someone without a wand would have killed a wizard like that. You're the only one who can't use magic."

Ginny's heart plummeted. Of course it would be that.

A tug on her arm had her moving again, and then she had no time to spare for fears and regrets. Draco turned sharply once they got off the stairs and dragged her down another corridor. They both stopped short as a cloaked figure stepped into view. Ginny could feel a scream building in her throat, but then Draco clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling the sound. He glared at her, making sure that he had her full attention, and then he gestured to the Death Eater. Heart pounding, Ginny followed his gaze and saw that the man had his back turned to them. He didn't even know they were there.

She nodded at Draco to show she understood, but the blond clearly didn't trust her to stay silent and kept his hand over her mouth. Moving as quietly as possible, he guided her forward to the room on their left, all the while keeping a wary eye on the Death Eater. The door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it back a little further to allow them entry and then closed it behind them with an imperceptible click. Ginny removed his hand from her mouth.

"That was close," she whispered, taking in a deep breath.

Draco only nodded and then led her over to the far wall, past the furniture and shelves that had all been covered with white sheets. Ginny guessed they were in some kind of unused parlour, judging by the decor. She glanced back at Draco and watched with curiosity as he ran his finger over the wainscoting.

"What are you doi—" she began, but fell silent when a section of the panelling started to swing open, revealing a passageway big enough for a full-grown adult. Her jaw dropped.

"Quickly," Draco ordered, pulling her inside with him. "This path will take us straight to the grounds, but we'll have to be quiet."

Ginny was still trying to get over her surprise when he leaned over her and tugged on something sticking out of the wall. There was a faint clicking sound, and then the secret panel began to close behind them, sealing them inside the passage. Her breathing sharpened. For a moment all she could see was a veil of black, but then Draco mumbled something under his breath and his wand lit up with a pale glow. Their eyes met, and she was conscious of the way her heart quickened as the shadows danced around them. His jaw tightened and he turned away from her and held out his wand to illuminate the path ahead.

"Let's go," he said, moving forward. "We don't have any time to waste."

Ginny followed him, trying to ignore the stale taste of the air and the feeling of cobwebs brushing against her skin in sticky caresses. Draco still kept his hold on her wrist, but they had to move in a single file because of the narrowness of the path. Ginny began to feel as if they were walking through a giant rabbit warren. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, but finally the air began to taste less musty and a cool draft blew on her face. When Draco stopped in front of a wooden door, she knew she was at the exit.

His expression was unreadable as he set about removing the bolts and locks. Ginny took the moment to examine him, staring at the hard curve of his jaw and the unrelenting sharpness of his mouth. She wondered what he was thinking: if he was regretting his decision to help her escape, or if he hated the fact that she had essentially forced his hand. Then she dismissed the thought. There was no point dwelling on such matters now. Regardless of how he felt, he had said that he would get her out of the manor. She had to believe that he would keep his word.

Draco finished with the last of the spells and then pulled the door open, trying his best not to let it creak. Vines and bushes blocked the entryway, though a few silvery beams of moonlight filtered through, suggesting the barrier was not as thick as it looked. Ginny stepped forward, but Draco abruptly pressed her back against the wall, holding her in place with his hand on her stomach.

"Wait," he whispered, giving her a warning glance.

Not waiting for her response, Draco stepped out of the passageway and pushed through the shrubbery until he disappeared from view. Ginny tried to ignore the sudden dryness in her mouth and the way her chest constricted in panic. There was no need to be frightened. He was probably only checking to see if there were any Death Eaters around; it wasn't like he was going to abandon her. Besides, she had a wand now. She could protect herself.

Something rustled outside. Ginny flinched and clenched Lucius's wand tightly in her hand, drawing comfort from the solidness of the wood. Standing still like this was making her edgy, and the fact that she had no idea what was happening outside only made it worse. She swallowed nervously and her heart thudded against her ribs, making the blood pulse in her ears.

"Come on, Draco," she whispered. "Where are you?"

More rustling. Ginny stared at the open doorway, feeling the cold fingers of sweat work their way down her neck as the sounds got louder and more frequent. She held her wand at the ready and counted the seconds that passed—each feeling like an eternity. Then the vines parted and a familiar blond came into view.

"Oh, it was only you," Ginny sighed in relief, lowering her wand.

Draco brushed a twig off his shoulder. "Everything seems clear, but we'll have to hurry."

"Alright."

He closed the distance between them and tapped his wand to her head. Ginny immediately felt like she had been doused with icy water.

"What was that?" she demanded, rubbing at her hair.

"Disillusionment Charm," he replied, and proceeded to do the same to himself.

Ginny blinked as he disappeared. Sure enough, when she looked down at herself she could only see a faint outline of her body. The both of them were now camouflaged with their surroundings.

"If there's anyone patrolling the grounds, we should be able to sneak past unseen like this," Draco explained, taking her hand and pulling her with him through the vines.

Ginny coughed as a leaf got in her mouth. "Why didn't you just do that earlier when we were still in the manor?"

"Too many variables. The charm is only really useful when you're in an open space or if it's dark." He paused and looked down at her, though neither of them could see the other's expression. "Didn't you pay attention in school?"

She could hear the reproof in his voice and had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. It was strange, yet something about his response stripped away the ugly reality of their situation. In that moment they were just two teenagers: he arrogant in his knowledge, and she exasperated at the way he lorded over her for what he perceived as a failing on her part. She could imagine that this is what their relationship would have been like had the war not happened. It almost made her smile. Almost.

Draco tightened his fingers around her hand. "We should keep moving."

"You're right," she agreed.

Together, they threaded a path through the shrubbery and then started making their way across the grounds. Stars glowed in a pool of inky black up in the heavens, and she saw that the moon was in its waning phase, looking like a silver sickle streaking across the sky. It was just enough light for Ginny to walk without stumbling, though from far away everything looked like a mask of shadows. She hoped that Draco knew where they were going.

It seemed that he did. The invisible tugs guiding her forward headed in a set path, twisting and turning when needed, but not once did Draco hesitate. Ginny was grateful for the warm assurance of his grip, though she was beginning to wonder if they need even worry. She had expected to see Death Eaters swarming the grounds, but they had only seen two cloaked figures so far, and both had been easy enough to avoid. The fact that she and Draco were essentially invisible certainly helped.

Ginny took another glance around her surroundings, and her eyes rested on the silhouette of what might have been a fountain. It was then that she realised Draco was leading her directly towards the front gates. Alarmed, Ginny dug her feet into the grass, pulling them both to a halt. Draco rounded on her immediately.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed, and she didn't need to see his face to know that he would be glaring.

"We can't go out the front gates!" she whispered fiercely. "They'll catch us for sure! Can't you just remove the wards or something?"

"I don't have the magical knowledge to remove the wards surrounding the manor; I'm an eighteen-year-old wizard, not a genius."

"But then—"

"The gates will obey me regardless of what wards are in place." He placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Look, just believe me when I say I can get us through."

"You're crazy!"

The pressure left her shoulder. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Ginny didn't get a chance to protest; he was already dragging her forward, ruthless in his determination. The gate began to materialise before her eyes: a glittering wall of black spikes and metal bars that seemed even more forbidding at night. She wondered if the wards really would obey him. Either way, there was no turning back now.

A quick scan revealed that the two of them were alone. Ginny felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Something wasn't right. It didn't make sense for the Death Eaters to leave the gates unguarded like this—not if they thought she was trying to escape.

"There's no one here," she whispered, frowning up at the blurred form beside her.

Draco hesitated a moment and then released her hand. "Keep watch; I'm going to open the gates."

His voice was clipped—tense. He didn't like the situation either.

Ginny swallowed against the lump in her throat and took a firmer hold on Lucius's wand. She felt uncomfortably exposed as she stood there with her back to the gates, open to attack from all sides. She could only be grateful that the Disillusionment Charm was keeping her hidden from all but the most searching of eyes. A niggling feeling told her that perhaps she and Draco were not quite as alone as they appeared.

An owl hooted from somewhere above them. Ginny exhaled deeply and tried to stay calm. Her eyes were fixed on the darkened landscape ahead of her, watching for any sign of an approaching witch or wizard. The shadows started to play tricks on her mind; every alcove was an ambush waiting to happen, yet no one came. The silence stretched on, but somehow this only increased her agitation. She wished that Draco would hurry.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder to check on the blond's progress. His hood had fallen back, and she was momentarily distracted by the way his hair seemed to glow silver in the moonlight, creating an unearthly halo around his face. She watched as he waved his wand in a diagonal slash and then mumbled something she could not hear. Her heart suddenly lurched in her chest. She could _see_ him.

"Draco!" she hissed warningly.

He flashed an irritated glance her way, but then he froze. She saw the colour drain from his cheeks, and she knew that the charm must have worn off for her as well. Panic began to creep its way up her chest, seizing invisible fingers around her throat. Anyone could see them now. They were as vulnerable as moths flirting with an open flame.

As if on cue, a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows and stood before the two teenagers. Black eyes glittered from beneath the rim of the hood, though the person just stood there and surveyed them for a moment, perhaps contemplating who to strike first. Ginny readjusted her hold on Lucius's wand, her hands slippery with sweat. It was two against one, though the Death Eater's friends were sure to be along soon—that is if she and Draco had not already been surrounded.

"Draco," Ginny said again, this time pleadingly.

His eyes found hers, and the grey irises swirled in a tangle of emotions. She could see the fear and uncertainty in his gaze, but there was determination as well. A surge of gratitude swept through her. In that moment she knew that he would not abandon her, no matter what happened. He had made his decision, and this time he would stand by her side.

There was a dry laugh, and the two teenagers turned as one to see the cloaked figure walking confidently towards them. "Well, well," a familiar voice taunted from beneath the hood, "I must say that vanishing trick of yours was rather clever, Draco, but you seem to have forgotten one important rule." The Death Eater pointed a gnarled wand his way. "A spell is only as powerful as its user, and it looks like your magic is all dried up."

Draco let out a sharp breath. "Aunt Bellatrix."

The cloak was pulled back, revealing the ravaged face and hooded black eyes, all of which were framed by a crown of tangled obsidian. Ginny felt her heart sink. It was Bellatrix, alright, and judging by the sinister smile that curled the older woman's lips, she was not about to start showing mercy any time soon. This was a witch who lived for the thrill of battle, and whose one true delight was in listening to her victim's scream. She would never back down, and for good reason. Her skill with a wand was legendary.

Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed at their dismayed expressions. "Poor baby," she mocked, staring with cruel delight at her nephew. "Did you really think you would be able to escape with the little whore? Did you really think you could outsmart me?"

Draco's jaw tightened. He walked forward and placed himself in front of Ginny, not even looking at the redhead as he took up an offensive stance. Bellatrix shook her head and made a small sound of disapproval, though her eyes glittered with amusement.

"Silly boy," she chided, waggling a finger at him. "Have you forgotten that it was I who first taught you how to use that wand of yours properly? You were just a child playing with a stick before I came along, or do you hope to use underhanded tricks to beat me like what you did to your father?"

"I didn't kill my father," Draco gritted out, narrowing his eyes at the older witch.

"You're right; it was that blood-traitor whore cowering behind you who did that." Bellatrix's expression suddenly hardened. "Lucius was a fool to think that he could control his pet forever, but I am not a fool, Draco. Give up the girl and we can forget about your little act of treachery. But if you don't—" her teeth gleamed in a vicious smile "—well, let's just say that my sister has already lost a husband tonight, and I would so hate to have to deprive her of a son as well."

Draco did not allow himself to be intimidated by the threat, though Ginny could see way his shoulders tensed. He was more nervous than he was letting on—a fact that his aunt did not miss.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," Bellatrix said softly, frowning at him with feigned disappointment. "Where is your common sense? You know you cannot beat me. Not only are you outmatched in terms of skill, but you and I both know that you exhausted most of your power when you cast those Disillusionment Charms. You're completely defenceless."

Ginny paled and looked up at the blond, who was still standing protectively in front of her. "Is this true, Draco?" she demanded. "Did you use up all of your energy when you cast those spells on us?"

Draco ignored her question and kept his wand trained on his aunt. "Enough talking," he said brusquely, taking another step forward. "You didn't come here to chat, so let's just dispense with the preliminaries and fight."

Bellatrix's lips curved into a mocking smile. "Bold words for such a little boy."

"I'm not so little any more, Aunt."

She laughed softly. "Oh, but you are, Draco. You are, and I am going to prove it. I'll have you begging on your knees by the time I'm through with you."

The grey eyes flashed. "Enough!"

A jet of purple exploded from his wand, spiralling directly towards Bellatrix's heart. She seemed to do no more than give a slight flick of her wrist and then the spell was coming back towards him, too fast for him to block. Draco swore under his breath and grabbed Ginny by her middle, pulling them both out of the line of fire. Ginny felt the breath leave her lungs in a sickening whoosh as she collapsed on the ground, crushed under the weight of his body, but a second later he had rolled off her and was back on his feet, getting ready for a counter attack.

Bellatrix gave another of her raspy cackles, deflecting his next three curses with ease. "You're going to have to do better than that, Draco!" she taunted, and then gave a savage jab with her wand.

Ginny watched in horror as something black sprung forth from the tip of the gnarled wood, coiling like smoke before it lunged at Draco. The blond growled in exasperation and threw up a Shield Charm. There was a pulse of blue, and suddenly the black smoke came to an abrupt halt in front of his face, shaping itself to his wall of defence. For a moment it seemed the charm would not hold, but then the black smoke began to disintegrate before their eyes and eventually evaporated into nothing. A sigh of relief escaped Ginny's lips. Not far from her, Bellatrix stared at Draco in some surprise.

"Perhaps you are not as weak as I thought," Bellatrix observed, and a slight frown creased her brow.

Draco narrowed his eyes, resuming his offensive stance. "What were you expecting? For me to just crumble to my knees and surrender?"

Bellatrix laughed and pushed a tangle of black hair away from her face. "Don't get too cocky, little boy. You haven't won yet."

He gritted his teeth. "Just shut up and fight."

A disarming smile flitted across her lips. "Very well."

Draco barely had time to react before a stream of silver light soared towards him. Ginny cried out in warning, but it was too late. The spell struck him in the shoulder, tearing through flesh and bone with sickening ease. He groaned in pain, clamping his hand over the wound to stem back the flow of blood, but by then Bellatrix had already fired another of the strange slashing spells.

"Watch out!" Ginny cried.

This time Draco was able to heed her warning and raised his wand just as the curse rushed in to make impact with his face. There was another pulse of blue and then the spell hit against his shield, colliding in a mesh of silver and sapphire. Ginny waited for the translucent light to evaporate just as the black smoke had done, but as the seconds passed and the sparks of magic continued to grow, she realised that something must have gone wrong. Draco was still fighting to gain dominance over his aunt; he would not be able to deflect the curse unless he could summon more power.

Bellatrix's face lit up with unholy glee as she advanced towards the blond, taking advantage of his vulnerability to drive her spell more forcefully into his shield. Sweat gathered on his brow, and his hand trembled as he struggled to maintain the flow of magic keeping his defence in place. Suddenly, he let out a ragged gasp and collapsed to one knee.

"No!" Ginny screamed, taking a step towards him.

She stopped when she saw that he still had his wand raised; somehow, he had managed to keep his shield intact even upon being driven to the ground. Now he clenched his jaw as he fought to regain control. Letting go of his wound, he latched his free—and now bloody—hand around his wand, holding the wood out from him like a two-handed sword. Blue waves pulsed around him, and then he slowly began to push back at the silver light with his shield, redirecting the spell towards his aunt.

"Impossible!" Bellatrix exclaimed.

Her eyes widened as her wand-arm began to shake from the force of the magic surging between the two of them. Draco gave a grim smile and shoved even harder, but Bellatrix was ready for him this time. Sparks ricocheted off into the night as the stream of silver forced itself back into the wall of blue. Then the silvery light seemed to freeze all together, and Ginny turned to look at Draco for an explanation. What she saw was a mask of stubbornness and pain: a boy fighting back with everything he had, even as his body begged for release, to the point where she could see the tendons sticking out of his neck from the strain. He was not about to give up, and for a moment it seemed that he might even win.

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed, and suddenly the silver light burned stronger, flaring up against his shield as if propelled by an invisible wind. Draco tried to retaliate in kind, but what little reserves of strength he had discovered were fast depleting. The blue waves flickered around him, barely holding back the silver light, but even then he still he held on. Ginny had not known that he could be so determined.

"Give it up, boy," Bellatrix taunted, flashing her teeth in a cruel smile as she closed the last few steps between them. "You know you cannot beat me."

Draco cried out in anguish as the silver light surged forward in another violent attack. The blue waves flickered again, getting smaller and smaller with each passing second. Somehow, Ginny knew what was going to happen next. Draco would lose control of his Shield Charm and then the Slashing Curse—or whatever that thing was—would slip through his defences and slice him to pieces. There wouldn't be a thing left of him, and once again she was just playing spectator and letting it happen.

It was in that moment that Ginny remembered she was still holding onto Lucius's wand. Her fingers curled tightly around the wood, and she stared hard at Bellatrix, feeling the adrenaline course through her veins. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she reminded herself that she was not that weak, defenceless servant any more. There was no need to be afraid. She had her magic back; she just needed to remember the words.

Ginny exhaled and opened her eyes. Bellatrix was laughing, already celebrating her victory while Draco knelt at her feet, barely able to hold his head up. Ginny knew that he would not last much longer.

_I won't let you die_.

The silent vow burned within her heart, and then Ginny raised the wand she had taken from her dead master and spoke two words. Green light gushed forth from the wood, far larger and brighter than she could have ever imagined. It soared through the night, illuminating the darkness with a haunting glow as it headed straight for its target. Bellatrix was still laughing when the light buried itself into her back. She staggered a moment, the amusement not quite faded from her expression; then her eyes dimmed of all awareness and she started to fall.

Draco's Shield Charm took effect the moment Bellatrix's wand slipped from her fingers. The silver light vanished, consumed by a single pulse of blue, and then Draco slumped forward and lay as still and silent as his aunt. In an instant Ginny was beside him, her hands trembling as she turned him over so that he was stretched out on his back. His eyes were closed and his body limp.

"Wake up," she whispered, giving him a small shake. "Please, wake up."

His head lolled to the side, and it was then that she finally noticed the fresh blood on her hands. She stared down at his chest, seeing the dark patch of crimson spreading from his left shoulder, so vivid against the black of his robes. A horrible feeling of déjà vu stole over her, and she shook him more urgently, pleading for him to open his eyes. She would not lose him like she had lost her brother. Not now. Not when they were so close to finally getting out of this hell his family had created.

"Please," she begged, closing her eyes as unshed tears burned at her eyelids. "Don't abandon me now."

Fingers closed around her wrist. Ginny's eyelashes fluttered open and she looked down to see a pair of familiar grey eyes staring back at her. A sob escaped her throat, and suddenly she was hugging him close, clinging to his lean frame as if he were the sole source of oxygen for her lungs.

"You're alive," she breathed, burying her face into his neck. "Thank the gods you're alive."

Draco winced and pulled back from her, touching tentatively at his shoulder. His fingers came away sticky with blood. Ginny paled, her euphoria quickly fading.

"How bad is it?" she asked in a small voice.

"Bad enough."

They both fell silent. Draco stared about the battle-scarred clearing, and it was then that he noticed the body sprawled on the ground, looking so much like a discarded ragdoll. His jaw tightened a fraction, hardening his features into an unreadable mask. Ginny saw what he was looking at and lowered her gaze. She did not want to stare at Bellatrix's body, not liking the emotions the sight aroused inside her. But whether she looked or not the feelings continued to haunt her: a strange mixture of shame and relief, all interlaced with a whisper of revulsion. It seemed so wrong that she could have murdered two people in one night, even if she had hated them both.

"I'm sorry about your aunt," Ginny said after a moment.

"Don't be. She would have killed us both if we had given her the chance."

Ginny played with her blood-stained nightdress, twisting the fabric round and round her finger as if it were a thread of yarn. She knew what he said was true, but that didn't make what had happened any easier to stomach. She thought he might feel the same. For all of his pragmatism, Bellatrix had still been his aunt.

The silence stretched between them, not really awkward, but not really comfortable either. Finally, Draco got to his feet.

"You should go," he said firmly. "More Death Eaters will probably be on their way soon, if they aren't already. We're just lucky that no one has found us yet, considering all the spells Aunt Bellatrix and I were casting."

Ginny stood up and met his gaze with a questioning frown. "What do you mean _I_ should go? Aren't you coming, too?"

He shook his head. "I can't."

Something twisted in her heart, pulling taut like a piano string tuned too tightly.

"But you have to come," she argued, conscious of the lump building in her throat. "You'll be killed if you stay here."

"My aunt was the only one who knew of my betrayal, and now she's dead. No one has to know that I helped you."

"So you'll just stay here, even though you hate it?" Ginny stared at him wordlessly, unable to comprehend his sudden desire to stay in a place she knew he saw as a prison. "Why, Draco? Why would you do this? I thought you wanted to escape."

He sighed and turned away from her. "You're forgetting that I'm still bound to the Dark Lord. I might be able to remove the servant bonding magic from you, but you can't remove what the Dark Lord has done to me. If I left with you now, I'd only be putting us both in danger."

She lowered her gaze to her hands, feeling the string tighten in her chest. "I don't want to leave you."

"Even if I could leave with you now, I still wouldn't go."

His voice was gentle, but that didn't stop the tendrils of pain from curling around her heart and joining with the threads that pulled so tightly at her chest.

"Why not?" she whispered, desperately trying to hide her distress.

"Because of my mother."

Ginny stared at him in disbelief, thinking of the cold and ruthless woman that was his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was a woman who openly admitted she wanted to watch Ginny writhe in pain, and who had held out a dagger while speaking poisonous words into her servant's ear. She was a woman who was selfish to the core, or so it seemed to Ginny.

"Why would you do that?" Ginny asked, repressing a shiver as she banished the blonde's image from her mind.

Draco gave an odd sort of shrug that didn't quite disguise the haggard look about his eyes. "She's all I have left."

Ginny had no defence for that. She was the one who had deprived him of his family, and she knew all too well the sense of abandonment and pain that came with losing the last connection to one's home. After all, it was Draco's father who had stripped Ginny of her family when Lucius had attacked the Burrow.

The pit of emptiness seemed to expand within her then, making her feel as dead and hollow as the body sprawled so negligently beside her. Ginny had to avert her face to hide her tears. She and Draco were so screwed up. It seemed impossible that they had ever managed to forge any kind of foundation for a relationship, yet somehow they had. Even now—even when she knew it seemed so wrong to care for him—she could not deny the unspoken words that whispered in her heart. No matter what he or any of his family had done, she continued to love him. It was instinctive, maybe even unavoidable. It just _was_.

Draco's mouth curved into a frown when he noticed that she was crying. "Ginny."

He breathed her name like a lament, as if he had already decided she was lost to him and he could do no more. Ginny felt the strings inside her chest snap. The chasm was growing wider between them, and she didn't know how to close the distance—didn't know how she could ever bridge the gulf of circumstance and status that divided them. She loved him—she could accept that now—but too much had happened. Too much had happened to the both of them. He was still a Death Eater and she...

She no longer felt as if she had an identity at all.

_Maybe he's right_, she thought. _Maybe it is better this way_. _We both have journeys ahead of us—pieces of the puzzle that we need to find and fit together in order to make ourselves whole again. I don't know if I could do that with him. There are too many memories between us. Too many wounds. Maybe it's better if we just ... part._

Yet even as Ginny accepted this truth, she knew that she would try anyway. For good or bad, she would seek to close that divide.

But not today.

Ginny took in a deep breath and straightened to her full height. "I'm ready to leave now," she said quietly.

Draco nodded and raised his wand. Their eyes met for a second—a thousand unspoken words passing between them—and then he brought his wand down in front of her, like the fall of an axe, and began to chant the words that would release her from the servant bond. Ginny immediately felt the magic take hold of her body, travelling through her limbs in a warm caress until it finally centred on her heart. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she felt the locks come apart on that battered cage, letting the wounded bird that was her soul stumble free from its prison. Despite all that had happened that day, she had never felt happier as she did in that moment.

The blond held her gaze as he brought his wand back to her face, and for a moment she could see the true depth of his love for her burning his eyes—a love that finally understood the importance of sacrifice and self-worth. "You are no longer bound to the Malfoy family," he said softly, finishing the last line of the enchantment. "Accept your freedom and go your way."

Ginny knew the formal speech that tradition dictated she should say in reply, but instead she walked up to him and kissed him full on the mouth, letting her lips linger a moment before she pulled away. "Don't forget me," she whispered.

His eyes met hers, so beautiful in their unique shade of grey. "I won't."

A fragile smile touched her lips, and then she stepped back and raised her hand in farewell. To speak the words would make their parting more real, and right now she couldn't bear that. Draco seemed to feel the same, for he merely inclined his head in her direction. The curt dismissal might have hurt more had she not realised that he was just trying to protect his heart. With him, less always had been more.

Feeling her eyes prickle with tears, Ginny turned on her heel and quickly headed for the gates before her emotions could get the better of her. This was not the time for prolonged goodbyes. Thankfully, Draco's manipulation of the wards, as well as the removal of the servant bond, eliminated any problems she might have had in getting through the gates. A simple tug released the catch and then she passed through the heavy bars, only to pause as she realised that she had just taken her first step into the outside world as a free person since becoming the Malfoy's servant.

It was strange in a way. Ginny had spent many hours dreaming of what it would feel like to take her first _free_ step onto non-Malfoy soil. Like most fantasies, the reality never quite lived up to the ideal. In her imagination she had always been so joyous and happy upon leaving the manor, but now she wasn't sure what to think. So much had happened, to the point where she felt as broken as poor Humpty Dumpty after he fell off his wall. A part of her was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that she had killed two people. A part of her was terrified that the manor had changed her for good, and that she would never be able to find a space for herself in this alien world that had once been her home.

And then there was Draco.

Ginny glanced behind her and saw the blond standing not far from where she had left him. It was too dark for her to make out his expression, but that didn't bother her as much as she thought it would. Their paths might be splitting off in different directions for the present, but his features were imprinted on her heart. There was no way she could forget.

"I'll find you again, Draco Malfoy," she promised. "One day, when this war is over, we will meet again."

Until then, she would have to walk her own path. It would not be easy. Her time at the manor had clipped her wings and sent her tumbling on a crash course for ruin, but now that cage of death and misery had been broken.

No more did she have to fall. It was time to teach herself how to fly again.

* * *

**Notes:**

**So I was actually going to write a small epilogue after this, which takes place several years later when Draco and Ginny meet again. The thing is that I'm not sure if that epilogue is even necessary now after the way this chapter decided to end. At the most, the epilogue would explain a bit more about what happens to Draco and Ginny during their time apart, but in all honesty this chapter's ending is about as hopeful as things will ever get for the world of _Domino_. I'm afraid the hard realism of the epilogue might just dampen the mood.**

**I guess what I'm saying is that if you _really_ want to read the epilogue I might be persuaded to write it, but for now you can consider this story complete. ^_~ **


	8. Epilogue

Quite a few of you expressed interest in reading the epilogue, so here is the final instalment of _Domino_. I had to rework some things because of how the last chapter ended, but it's pretty much the same in terms of the basic outline.

**Epilogue**

There were no fireworks to signal the defeat of the wizard known as Lord Voldemort. The sky remained an oppressive black, smothering the brightest of stars behind a cloak of clouds. Even the moon refused to show its pale face, yet glimpses of light had still been seen: sickly greens and bold reds, clashing and sparking off each other in a battle for dominance. Then the boy saviour had come, just as it had always been prophesied that he would, and the man with the crimson eyes had fallen.

The war was over.

Few had witnessed the end, and even fewer understood how that much anticipated victory had truly been won. A name was whispered—sometimes in reverence, sometimes bitterly—but no one mentioned the girl with the vibrant red hair and the scarred hands. She was just another page in the lost and forgotten; a casualty of war whose story would never be told, yet it was she who had first shaken the Death Eaters' foundations and set the wheels in motion to end the struggle. Harry Potter might have defeated the Dark Lord, but she was the domino who had started it all: a wounded innocent who had been forced to fall through the Death Eaters' cruelty, and one by one they had toppled after her until only their master remained, helpless and already on the verge of collapse.

No one knew what had become of that girl. Her body had not been found amongst the slaughter that had taken her family, though many had presumed her dead. In the uglier parts of society, it was rumoured that she had been enslaved by the Malfoys; however, when the manor finally crumbled from the corruption and fear that rotted its foundations, collapsing like so many house of cards, there were no traces to be found of the servant who had walked the halls. She had simply faded from existence.

In time, there was only one who refused to believe that her heart had stopped. He remembered the girl with the blood-stained dress who had fought so desperately for her freedom. He remembered the warm imprint of her lips upon his, and the final look she had given him before she passed through the gates and vanished into the darkness. He knew she would not have given up.

Ginny Weasley was out there somewhere, perhaps still waiting to emerge from the ashes of her past, but alive nonetheless. She would whisper a name along with the rest of the world, but it would not be the boy saviour's name on her lips. The end of the war was more than just a new beginning for the girl with the scarred hands; it was a reminder of what she had left behind. She had not forgotten her promise, and one day she would return to fulfil it.

_I'll find you again, Draco Malfoy. _

**X**

The sky was a veil of grey the day that she arrived on the island. Waves crashed upon the rocks, forming watery walls that barred all escape, though one would have to climb down the precipitous cliffs to even get to the shore. People did not leave this island. The collection of gravestones she could see sticking up from the withered grass was a testament of that. The barren spit of land was occupied only by the Undesirables and their keepers, and no one cared what happened to them as long as the Undesirables stayed far away from the rest of civilisation. There were not even any flowers or trees to soften the landscape—just the cold construction of stone that stood in the centre like some ugly monolith. It was a depressing sight, and she shivered at the thought of having to spend the rest of her life in such a miserable, isolated place.

"You alright there, sweetheart?" the man guiding her asked in a gruff voice.

He looked like a shaggy bear impersonating a human as he stood there in his navy robes, black beard smothering most of his features. She nodded and clutched her cloak tighter to her body, trying to protect herself from the wind. Her hood had been pulled low over her face, but it fell back with a particularly fierce gust, letting waves of red tumble free and flutter around her like ribbons of fire. A few drops of rain began to fall, getting heavier by the second. The man made a noise of displeasure at the back of his throat.

"Curse this rain!" he grumbled. "We'd better get inside. We'll end up like drowned rats if we stay out here."

Wordlessly, she followed her guide towards the building, keeping her head bowed against the barrage of wind and rain. The man knocked twice on the steel door, which opened with many groans and clicks. She was barely inside before the door swung closed behind her with a heavy thud. The finality of that sound made her stomach twist in panic, and she had to take a moment to breathe deeply through her nose and calm her racing heart. She had not been good with enclosed spaces ever since the war, especially such tightly sealed ones as this.

A touch on her sleeve made her look up. The gruff man who had led her across the island now gestured to the small booth on her left.

"We're going to need you to hand over your wand before we go any further. Protocol," he added with an apologetic cough.

She walked over to the booth and placed her wand on the bench, sliding it through the gap in the bars to the guard who sat on the other side. The tag on the guard's chest said his name was Grant. He looked to be around her age, maybe a little older. Some might have thought him handsome with his golden hair and vivid blue eyes, but all she noticed was the way he stared at her hands in surprise, even repulsion.

"What's the matter?" she asked, giving him a hard look. "Never seen scars before?"

Grant quickly averted his gaze and muttered something that might have been an apology. The young woman smiled humourlessly and began filling out the form he had passed to her, already dismissing the incident from her mind. People often stared at her scars, and most of the time it was with that faint mixture of curiosity and disgust. The war had left many people disfigured, but there was something particularly off-putting about her scars. Perhaps it was because she seemed like such a pretty little thing, but then you saw her hands and the way her palms and fingers were smothered in what looked like a constellation of pale stars. Except these were not stars; these were deep gouges and mounds of puckered flesh—the ghost of wounds that refused to heal and were uncomfortably rough to touch.

A friend had asked her once why she didn't have the scars removed. They made her hands look so unattractive, and surely it would be easier to just move on and forget the past? Her answer had been simple enough: the scars were a reminder of why she must survive, of what had been sacrificed so she could be free. There was no shame in that. Besides, the real wounds were the ones that could not be seen with the naked eye. Humpty Dumpty might have put herself together again, but the cracks still showed where she had fallen apart. She knew that the memories would not fade, even if the visible disfigurements did.

The gruff man coughed, shattering the mirror of dark images that flashed before her mind. She exhaled softly and finished signing her name on the parchment, then pushed the form back to Grant. He glanced over what she had written and nodded to other guard, signalling that they could proceed.

"This way," the gruff man said, heading to the door at the far end of the room, which she knew led to the lower levels.

Suddenly, her feet didn't want to move. For five years she had waited for this moment, and now that it was here she realised she was afraid. It had been so long.

_I can't run anymore._

Steeling herself, and with her heart pounding with anticipation, she followed the gruff man down into the depths of the building. Apart from the metal doors that framed the walls there was no distinct change in the decor, but she couldn't help but feel as if the corridors were becoming darker—almost malignant. There was so much misery festering within this place, so much hate and despair. The people who dwelled behind those doors knew that they were trapped in a living hell. It wasn't long before she began to hear the screams.

"Don't mind them," the gruff man commented, noting her hesitance. "They like to moan every now and then. Gives 'em something to do."

She nodded and walked ahead without a further word, though her cheeks remained pale. In her heart, she felt sick with apprehension. There was something about those screams that unsettled her; it was a sound twisted with madness and hopelessness, like the frenzied cries of a lunatic who knows he is lost but still yearns for sanity. She didn't see how anyone could survive living in this place, let alone for five years. She hated to think what it would have been like when only the Dementors were used as guards.

They passed through another set of doors and he led her down a narrow flight of stairs, which led to even more maze-like corridors. The moans and screams of the Undesirables were getting fainter, but then she would pass a door and hear the wretched sobbing coming from within. Sometimes there was only silence, as if the person living inside the cell was already dead. She didn't know what was more unnerving.

"How much further?" she asked, ignoring the knots forming in her stomach.

"Not far to go now. We've been keeping him in Isolation, mostly for his own protection. He's one of the few Undesirables charged with war crimes who managed to escape a life sentence or receiving the Dementor's Kiss. The others don't like that."

"He's not an Undesirable," she said softly—too softly for the gruff man to hear.

It was a term coined by politicians to replace the old title of Death Eater, much in the same way that Lord Voldemort's name had been changed to You Know Who. Now the label was used to describe all criminals, but the implication was still the same: an Undesirable was someone less than human—a despicable and highly dangerous creature who could have no place in society. It bothered her that people thought _he_ was such a man. Whatever wrongs the boy she had come to find might have committed during his time as a Death Eater, he had been kind to her.

"Tell me," she said after a moment, now staring at her hands with sudden interest. "Will I—will I find him much changed?"

The gruff man gave a bark of laughter. "Sweetheart, this is Azkaban. Everyone goes a little mad here."

Her expression must have suggested that this was not the right answer, because he plastered an apologetic smile on his face and assured her that he was just an old fool and she shouldn't take heed of the things he said. The young woman was not comforted, but she said no more and followed the guard in silence. Finally, they stopped outside a single metal door. The light above flickered in broken stutters, like a candle hissing its last breath. It was the only sound to be heard, for there was no screaming coming from within this cell.

She took in a deep breath and faced the gruff man. "I want to be alone with him."

"I don't think you—"

"I want to be alone with him," she repeated in a hard voice, narrowing her eyes. "He's been cleared for release, hasn't he?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then there shouldn't be a problem," she finished. "Now open the door."

The gruff man muttered something under his breath about foolish mainlanders, but he seemed to realise it would be futile to argue with this fierce little woman and ran his wand over the door to remove the lock. It seemed like hours that she waited for that cold slab of metal to move, but then a gap appeared and she felt her body come alive with the beating of her heart. It was time.

"I'll be waiting for you down the hall," the gruff man stated. "Don't be too long."

She merely nodded and then walked into the cell. A man dressed in a garishly crimson one-piece was sitting on the bed, but he stood up at her entrance and stared at her through startled grey eyes, as if he thought her some kind of illusion. She had much more trouble identifying him—at least when placed beside the elegant boy she remembered. Hair that had once been short and silky now fell in silvery-blond tangles around his shoulders, and the lower half of his face was covered in much the same, though his beard was a few shades darker. He looked ill and far too pale, which only emphasised the dark smudges under his eyes. He had also lost a lot of weight, to the point where he seemed all cheek bones and sharp edges, like a skeleton trying to break free from its skin. No one in their right mind would have called him handsome, let alone want to touch him.

"Ginny," he breathed, taking a few steps towards her. "This can't be real."

Something warm slipped down her cheek, and she realised she was crying. This was not the reunion she had been expecting. The past five years had not been kind to Draco Malfoy. While she had been given the space to heal, he had clearly been left to rot in his cell, damned and abandoned for crimes he should never have been forced to commit.

"What happened to you?"

Her voice was the barest whisper, but it had the effect of making him pause. The blond averted his face, perhaps ashamed of his appearance.

"You don't exactly get the five-star treatment when you're an Undesirable," he said with just a trace of bitterness.

Something flickered in her eyes. "Don't call yourself that."

"Why not?" he muttered, turning back to face her. "It's what I am, aren't I?"

"You're not an Undesirable, Draco. You never were."

He laughed, and she could definitely hear the bitterness now.

"That's not what my record says. Not what my arm says, either."

A crease formed on her brow. "I thought the Dark Mark would have faded once You Know Who was defeated, like it did last time."

"It did, which is why they gave us this—" He pulled up his sleeve and there, burned into his forearm in vivid black, was an ugly tattoo where the Dark Mark should have been.

"X2150," she read aloud. "Is that—"

"My identity code," he finished with a nod. "It's so people will always know what I am. It also means that the Ministry can find me any damn time they like." He let his sleeve drop back to cover the tattoo, and his mouth twisted into a cynical smile. "I belong to them now."

"I'm sorry," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "I really am sorry, Draco."

He shrugged. "It could have been worse. I'm just lucky I was eighteen and had already chosen to surrender when I was brought up for trial. I only ended up getting five years. Most of the others will be in here for life, that is if the Dementors don't get to them first. Sometimes it makes me almost glad that Mother—"

Draco swallowed and fell silent, inhaling sharply as he looked the other way to hide his expression. Ginny gripped his arm tighter.

"I heard about her death," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

He gave another of his jerky shrugs. "Well, at least the Dementors didn't get to her, right?"

There was nothing to be said. Ginny moistened her bottom lip, feeling fresh tears prickle at her eyes. It was heartbreaking to watch him try to be strong when she knew by the faint tremor in his voice that all he wanted was to break down and cry. She wished she could take away his pain, but she knew it was impossible. Like her, he would have to live with the wounds of his past, but she wondered if it would have been as bad for him had she just stayed. Perhaps she could have helped him. Perhaps with someone by his side he would not have fallen so far.

"I should have come earlier," she said in real distress, staring down at her shoes. "I should not have kept away from you for so long. It was selfish of me."

His fingers closed around hers, and she looked up on instinct and was struck anew by the beauty of those dark grey irises. In all her life she had never seen a colour quite like it, but it was the expression reflected in his eyes that truly held her entranced. She could see no bitterness swirling in the grey now—no anger. There was only sadness and maybe a hint of something else. Something that made her blood quicken and her limbs tingle with warmth. She was suddenly very conscious of where their skin touched, and though she knew he could feel every uneven bump of scarred flesh, there was no repulsion in his gaze.

"It wouldn't have made a difference if you had returned earlier, Ginny," he said gently. "You could not have got me out of this prison, nor could you have saved my mother." He placed his free hand against her cheek, tilting her face up more towards his. "Besides, you're here now, aren't you?"

"Yes," she murmured, almost in a whisper. "I'm here now."

For a moment they just stood there staring into each other's eyes, and then he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. Her eyelashes fluttered shut at the contact, and she returned the grip on his hand as she responded to the kiss, not even caring that all she could taste was the salt from her own tears. For five years she had waited for this moment—to feel her body pulse with life and her heart sing in wild pleasure as their lips moved together in sweet union. It had been so long, but never had kissing him felt so right. For once there was no great divide separating them. For once they could just express the secret thoughts of their souls without fear or reserve. The broken strings had finally been restrung, and with that came a sense of wholeness.

He had made her complete.

Their fingers were still entwined when he pulled back from the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. "I never forgot you, Ginny," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"I never forgot you either."

He squeezed her hand gently, but then he stepped back and held her gaze, looking suddenly grave. "It's not going to be any easier for us, you know. Five years can't erase the past."

"I know." She held their clasped hands to her chest, letting him feel the vibrant beating of her heart. "But I don't need to forget the past, Draco. I've been running for five years and now I want to stop. Now I just need you."

He smiled—a rare smile that whispered of a handsome boy who had once risked all to help the girl he loved. "Then I guess there's nothing more to be said."

"No," she agreed, and then she tugged lightly at the hair smothering his chin. "But we might have to do something about this beard."

He laughed in genuine amusement. "Trust me, Ginny; get me out of this hell and I'll let you do whatever you want."

She smiled and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. "It's a deal."

Suddenly, there was a hard rap on the door.

"Time's up, sweetheart! Get a move on, why don't you, or I swear I'll lock your boy there back up in his cell and call it a day!"

Ginny glanced back at Draco, her eyes questioning. "Ready to go?"

It was more than just a question about leaving the prison. She was asking him if this was what he really wanted—to join their paths as one and bridge the chasm between them once and for all, regardless of their history. Draco did not hesitate; he took her hand in a firmer grasp and graced her with one of his rare smiles.

There would be no parting of ways today.

* * *

Notes:

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and appreciated this story. I have enjoyed reading your thoughts and am eternally grateful for your support. There were many times when I wanted to scrap _Domino_, but you pushed me to keep going—even to add an epilogue which I honestly didn't feel like writing.

If you still feel like this ending wasn't very satisfactory and would like to read something with a bit more bite to it, you might want to check out _The Different Shades of Grey_. This is the fic I will be primarily working on for the rest of the year (or until I get it finished), and is definitely worth reading if you're a fan of darker DG stories. ^_~


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